Tesla's Revenge

by Renee Sebastian

  The smell was still acrid and mildly putrid. Four cement walls greeted me as I perused the enclosure. No way out from this room either. It was made strong to contain a small explosion, so if the mixers did a poor job creating the proper color tints, the resulting accidents could be controlled. This dead end may suit my purposes later, but right now, it felt too confining. It would be my last resort.

  I turned back and decided to hide between the sheets. The muted light from the vat room made for elongated and deceptive shadows, as the sheets undulated with a graceful lines. Once the lights in the other room were flipped on, the fans kicked on from above in this one. They must have been connected to the same circuit for safety reasons.

  I thought back to what weaknesses Merry had. Playing with his pets a little too much? Obsessed with building his strong man arms? A penchant for bright clothing? Well, he would like this room, with its kaleidoscope of twisting fabrics. Food? Nothing here. He was big and slow, and I wasn't. It would have to be enough. It would take time to take him down, unless... a thought zinged through me.

  I had one chance at this. I checked my dart supply. I had four red, paralysis darts left. Hmmmmm, those showed promise… maybe. There were three orange ones, but they were too dangerous as yet to use. I didn't want to be caught in the middle of a burning building, because whatever made up those noxious vapors from the vats had certainly permeated throughout the entire building. I had three purple truth serum darts left. Not exactly the obvious choice when battling evil monkeys. I had one fatal black dart left and three blue sleepy darts. Yellow stimulants were no use at all, except maybe if I used one on myself, but I wasn't about to try now, no matter how tempting it was.

  I put a blue and a red in one hand and waited between a saffron and violet sheet. I didn't want to wait near a wall, that was too obvious, but I did find a spot near the vat room, just in case. The music grew close and then stopped. I hoped that Dorian had found a suitable position to attack or defend himself in the weaving room. I pulled out my Westinghouse with my other hand. It might help if those damn monkeys were mechanical in nature.

  The sheets created false shadows that kept me on edge. I knelt down and waited. I was not outside. There was nothing of nature in this place. Hence, there was little in the way for me to use to turn myself invisible. I merely waited to be discovered and hoped that the element of surprise was going to be in my favor this time. I closed my eyes and listened. There was a cement floor beneath me that offered no hints as to where someone might be walking if they wore silent boots or shoes on their feet. Then I heard a shout in the other room and metal clinging loudly in the silence.

  I heard in a heavily accented voice, “Get the bitch, I'll take this one. So you are the infamous Dorian Grey. You don't look like much to me but raw meat. I wonder how your immortal blood will taste. Never had some of that before.” Cannibal too? Icky.

  I couldn't jump up to help Dorian, because I heard the maniacal, deep laugh of Merry enter my room. I was thankful they didn't tag-team Dorian before they looked for me. Pompous asses. It was a choice that might prove be the death of them both.

  Merry gave a short crank of the hurdy-gurdy and then must have dropped it, because I heard a sickening note of music at the same time that I heard a loud clunk of something heavy hitting the ground. Chits and shrieks seemed to come from every corner of the room as the monkeys made their search for me.

  Again, I waited. I placed the Westinghouse slowly on the ground and pulled out my magsteel whip. It was ultra-thin and I could use it as a garrote for strangling. However, if I was forced to use the garrote, that meant that things were going very bad for me, and I didn't know how Dorian was faring with Soren. All I could hear were the occasional, “Oomph,” and metal clanging.

  If Merry got close enough, but not too close, then I might be able to trip him, by grabbing his ankle with the whip. Maybe. I did have to get close enough to inject him with the darts by hand, since the sheets didn't allow for a clear blow. If he thought he had me trapped, then he might make a fatalistic error.

  Suddenly a monkey landed on my back and screamed. In classic Merry style, the monkey began to clap its hands together that had tiny cymbals for hands, alerting its owner to my location. Well, at least this one was mechanical in nature. I shook him off and readied the Westinghouse. Before it could right itself, I fried it with a shock of electricity and then it screamed its final artificial breath. Thirty seconds left for my gun to recharge and it seemed like a small eternity to me now.

  Merry roared in response, “She was worth more than your fucking bounty, Bitch. You'll pay for that.” He was closer than I had thought. I heard more chitting and chatting, but held still. I pushed the mechanical body across the floor, passing under several sheets of fabric. I listened hard and concluded that he might be mad, but maybe not all that stupid. He must have calculated my position by my shoving the fried monkey away from me and before I knew it, a sheet wrapped around me, and he was on top of me.

  He grabbed the end of me and wrapped it up tight in the sheet, probably in hopes of finding and wringing my neck nice and slow. But he chose the wrong end and laughed when he realized he had only gotten my ankle. Before I knew it, he had me upside down, and he shook me like a rag doll. He was just one big blighter.

  One hand still held the darts against my side. Tricky that, not piercing myself with them. Then I shook my sleeve in just such a way that the stiletto slid out and I sliced the fabric pinning me in too much like a shroud. I rendered it in two. I spilled out like a newborn babe born and rolled onto the floor. I used the downward momentum to continue rolling, because I could see Merry was trying to barrel into me… for a second time. I didn't think I could survive that.

  He landed just inches from me and then grabbed me. But I was waiting for him. A look of momentary confusion clouded his thoughts, as I shifted my body so that my arms were held out to hug him while I lay out upon the floor. I could see when it registered with him that I held my darts in my hand and he was about to fall into my deadly embrace. The only problem was that I wasn't so sure a red and blue combined could kill him, but I hoped that it would leave him incapacitated enough that I could finish him off. He tried to twist out of the way.

  I could change direction in mid roll, because I was diminutive and fast compared to him, but he was neither. I could see the whites of his eyes when he realized he was going to fall despite his sudden change of direction onto my needles. I felt most of his weight hit me, as a big exhale of breath whooshed out of my lungs. I then simultaneously jammed them both into his neck.

  I was lucky and unlucky. The two darts seemed to make him drowsy and confused, but he was most definitely not knocked out. It was then that the remaining monkeys decided to come over and start pulling my hair out. I batted my head, as the freaky pests made a go at me over and over again. Merry didn't take kindly to my swatting, so he sat up on his elbows and punched me in the face. That hurt. It was going to leave a bruise on the entire right half of my face. Brute.

  I still held my stiletto in my other hand, so I released it into my hand and stabbed him in the back from behind. The darts had done their job and had seriously hindered his reaction time. The problem with knife wounds was that if you didn't get your victim in the head or heart, you were in trouble. It takes a while for them to die from any other wound. The angle prevented me from making a true deathblow, but I made sure to sever his spinal cord with a lateral twist of my wrist.

  He coughed in my face, resulting in me getting spattered with his blood. Must have nicked a lung. He looked shocked and then his face turned red. “Macey and Gert, g g g git her,” he stammered. He had set the monkey sisters on me. They began in earnest to attack me again. They pulled my hair and began biting my arms and feet. I covered my face briefly when I could feel a little paw grabbing for an eyeball. But Merry, mercifully, covered most of the rest of me, protecting my vital parts from their prying fingers.

  To my chagrin, I found out the hard way that he sti
ll had control of his upper body when he next head-butted me. I saw stars. Somehow, I kept a hold of my knife. I pulled it out of his back and slashed his throat. I might not have been able to do it, at least as deeply as I did, if he wasn't still in a stupor from the dart's combined effects. Who knew how long it would last with a beast like him?

  Again, I was bathed in blood, but he did finally slump all of his weight on me. I used all my strength and leverage to finally heft him off of me for good. Then I made a made a grab for the Westinghouse. I slung one monkey that was latched onto my arm, biting the hell out of me, I might add, onto the floor and fried it. I looked for the other, but it was gone. It had the good sense to leave when the getting was good, or it must have been programmed with a self-preservation directive, because it was now nowhere to be seen. It would probably report what transpired tonight through an internal recording device after S.O.A.R. recaptured it.

  I heard a shout outside the room. Then Soren rushed into the empty space caused by Merry and me mucking about in the sheets. It was actually quite a large space, I realized too late, with no time to do anything until my Westinghouse finished recharging. I did have my pistols though.

  We stared at each other, testing the odds of the fates. He looked a bit worse for wear, slash marks marred his flesh where his shirt must have fallen off in ribbons. He had a wound to the head that looked like a bullet had grazed it. Dorian rushed in then and Soren glanced at him, then at Merry, and finally at me again. He must have realized that the odds were no longer in his favor. I took out my pistol. Soren smiled and sprinted outside to the vats. My shot had just missed him. He was faster than I had thought.

  It was time to go to plan B. I didn't have the time to dally with Soren. I withdrew my Widow and loaded an orange, fire dart. I called to Dorian, “Fire in the hole, this place is about to blow!” I smiled wryly and then readied it.

  I would never chance an orange in here normally. The fire would spread with deadly grace throughout the building, but with the cement atrium to contain any explosions, I decided that it was worth the chance. I didn't want to chase Soren down later. I blew and hit one of the boards. A small explosion occurred and a fire started streaming up the boards.

  Soren looked up and said, “You missed.”

  I had purposely set a weak orange dart in the Widow so that we would have enough time to close the heavy metal door and escape before the large boom happened. I blew a kiss and said, “Hope you can climb Soren.”

  He looked up at the impossible smooth cement walls with a troubled expression. I secured the door with the metal bar and then said to Dorian, “Even if the place doesn't explode in about ten seconds, he'll be trapped until morning.”

  Dorian grabbed my hand we took off for the true exit. He said, “I wouldn't want to bet against your darts, Miss Darling.” We just made it outside when we were slammed into the cobbled road as the whole building went boom. I flipped over to survey my handiwork and had to admit, thus far, this assignment was not so bad after all.

  I turned to look at Dorian, but he remained slumped over on his stomach. I touched his shoulder and he didn't move. I rolled him over and looked at his face. He had broken out in a sweat and he had taken on a distinct greenish hue. Why hadn't I noticed this when we were inside? I guess I had been in the moment, all of my attention absorbed in my task at hand.

  “What's wrong, Dorian?”

  “I don't know. I was fine when we ran for our grand escape. But I feel ill now.”

  I looked him over in the orange light of the fireball that was once a fabric warehouse.

  “Can you walk? It's not safe here. Someone will be sending for the wet wizards soon, and I don't want to delay our arrival to D.C.”

  “I shall try.” He then stood with my help and we limped over to the next street and paused in an alcove under an awning. It was dark enough that no one would see us.

  “Where are you injured?”

  “Really, I've had much worse, Gwendolyn.”

  This was serious. “Show me.”

  Even though it was dark, he withdrew his sword and lowered it to his torso. The red glow revealed a huge gash, just below his heart, under the leather trench. It was pouring out a wet substance that smelled strongly of varnish.

  “I don't suppose wishing would heal this?” I asked lamely, desperate for some levity in the presence of such dire circumstances.

  “Doubtful.”

  “You said you could heal all wounds. Will this one heal, as well?”

  “It is already trying to mend itself, but it hurts like the dickens.”

  “How long before it is totally mended?”

  “It may be a few days before the pain recedes entirely, so I won't be of much use against Lovecraft tonight, I'm afraid. It must have been a poisoned sword.”

  A poisoned sword? I smiled at that. If the actual wound was not the problem, then maybe I knew an antidote that just might work.

  “Can you take another's blood?”

  “Don't know. Never tried it. Why?”

  “Dorian, I'm part Elf, a Hedgewitch, and potions maker. I regularly ingest my own poisons to build a resistance to them. I should be able to accelerate your healing, if the poison is neutralized. The question is how. Should you ingest it or should I drip some directly into your wound? What do you think?”

  His face twisted and he asked, “Which do you think would be a more efficient treatment?”

  I thought for a moment and then decided both ways might be best. “I will risk both. First, though, I will feed the wound directly. The poison might compromise your organs before you can make swift recovery.”

  He nodded his head in understanding and said, “Do it.”

  I took out my stiletto and sliced my wrist longitudinally. I made sure not to make it too long or deep, so that I would not need stitches to close it completely. He did not need vein blood for this, but arterial.

  I brought it over to his wound and I could tell the pain was getting worse, since his hand shook infinitesimally at his side. I flipped my wrist and squeezed my arm from the shoulder down. My blood squirted into his wound. He closed his eyes and his hand stopped shaking.

  “Are you all right?”

  No answer. Blast! I must have chosen wrong. I quickly moved my arm over and placed it over his mouth. I had to get very close to his face to see his mouth. I shoved the wound over his lips. At first most of the blood trickled down his mouth, then I used my other hand to open his mouth. I pressed it back to him and I waited about fifteen seconds. Then he coughed. I tried to remove my arm in fear that I was choking him, but then his hands wrapped around my arm and he sucked hard at the incision. After about thirty more seconds, I tried to pull my arm away again, and he relinquished it.

  It was slightly disturbing to see him lick my blood from around his lips as I waited for his eyes to open again. When they did, I swore I could see the blue of his eyes even in this dark place. He smiled and reached around to the back of my head. I was still close to his face, looking for any signs of pain, when his added pressure brought our noses together. Then he kissed the tip of my nose and whispered, “Thanks.”

  I pulled away and said, “Fair trade and all.”

  He swallowed and said, “Oh, I don't think that at all.”

  The sirens started up, still several blocks away. “Do you feel well enough to make a go of Lovecraft now?”

  “Most definitely.”

  I looked down and noted his wound had closed. Then I took a look into his face again. His cheeks had colored to a rosy hue, as well. I told myself that he was just caught up in the moment. I told myself that I was a flavor of the week to him. I told myself that my rapid heartbeat was from blood loss and not him.

  I did not want him to know my deepest secret of all, that I had never even been kissed. Propriety and self-preservation kept me from forming any kind of a relationship like that. I told myself that I definitively did not want to kiss him. That way held madness for me. I couldn't be what he needed me to
be: available. And I didn't want anything casual. I was not casual. He slid his hand seductively down my arm. But when I looked at my arm, I saw he had simply smeared something there that had hardened and sealed over my wound, closing it for healing.

  I did what I usually did in the cold shadow of uncomfortable, conflicting emotions: I changed the subject. Ignore the elephant in the alcove was my personal mantra. I said, “The wet wizards will be here too soon.”

  “Indeed. And Gwendolyn, this thing between us is not done.”

  I disentangled myself from him and stood stiffly. I offered him a hand up and he scoffed at it. He used his cane and was up in a jiff.

  He added, “Not by any means.”

  I decided to ignore it some more and asked, “Do you think Tesla had enough time to get his army on the barge?”

  “Do you think he had enough time?”

  I acquiesced, “If anyone could have done it, I suppose he could have. How do you propose we get to the Pentagon, since we probably missed our boat with Tesla?”

  He checked a pocket watch and said, “We still have four hours. I think I we could still catch a mechcarriage not too far from here. I believe that would be most advantageous for us right now.”

  Chapter 23

  Cowboy Karaoke

  “Nothing is more absurd than a government employee dressed up as a cowboy, wearing only pressed pleather chaps and a hat full of rhinestones and not much else. Worse yet is to hear thus described cowboy sing about a lost horse, that he probably never owned in the first place. Such is the absurdity of the government of the Republic of America in the year of 2232.”

  -Dorian Gray, 2232

  From Dorian's Journal of Memorable Quotes to Live By