Capes & Clockwork: Superheroes in the Age of Steam Read online

  “Whrrrrrrr…” one of the daemons said before it exploded.

  “Qzzzzz,” another replied before following it into whatever automaton afterlife they were assured of.

  Dawkins landed with a thump. All around people seemed dazzled by his sudden appearance. What, like you’ve never seen a real hero before? he wanted to say, but then realized that he was, for a lot of them, before their time. If they were to ask their parents about him, though, he was sure they would hear some mighty fine stories.

  His reverie was interrupted by something landing on his shoulders. He staggered forwards, almost clattering into the dispersing band of terrified policemen. The daemon’s grip tightened, constricted so much that inside his helmet Dawkins heard the creak of metal. Was his helmet going to cave in, crushing his head in the process? He sure hoped not.

  He swung his arms up, latching onto the daemon’s ankles, and with one mighty pull–something he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of following that second cheese sandwich–he yanked the beast from his shoulders and flung it as hard as possible. It seemed to purr as it headed up and over the city, but ceased once it met with the hard brick wall of the Royal Armory.

  Dawkins dropped to his knees, panting. What he needed was a sidekick, somebody to take over when he needed a breather. Maybe, if he lived to see lunchtime, he would put an ad out in the local gazette: Young, energetic sidekick required for ageing superknight. Must be able to work Sundays.

  “Look out, meester!” somebody called from the side. Dawkins lifted his head just in time to see the trio of daemons rushing towards him. Even though they were essentially faceless, Dawkins was certain he could see sheer determination plastered across their shiny fizzogs, though that might have been the reflection of the burning city.

  Without thinking–there was no time for such wasteful activities–Dawkins mustered up enough power to climb to his feet and launch himself at the approaching creatures. Somebody–the same person who’d warned him a moment earlier–slapped himself in the forehead with disbelief at what he was witnessing.

  A golden daemon leapt into the air, landing on the bronze knight’s right shoulder; the two bronze daemons latched onto his trailing feet in an attempt to reunite him–and themselves–with the ground.

  “I don’t think so,” Dawkins said. He took a deep breath before arcing up over London. Even with the city far beneath he could still feel the heat, though he was also aware that several guilds of firemen were already working hard to dampen the flames. It was his city, his London; the last thing he wanted was to live somewhere that constantly had a chargrilled flavor to its atmosphere.

  The daemon sitting atop his shoulder like some malformed parrot decided that enough was enough and leapt aside. Taking its chances with the fast-approaching ground was not going to end well, though. In fact, several pieces of that golden daemon made it all the way to Essex.

  Dawkins continued up; the grips of the two mechanical beasts clinging to his legs for dear life could be felt even beneath his armor, their chirrups of disapproval vibrated up through his suit and rattled around in his helmet. Once high enough, Dawkins reached down and pulled the creatures from his shins. Even he didn’t know where the strength came from as he brought the daemons together like cymbals. Pieces of them showered down over the city. He slammed them again, and again, grinding them until they were fused into something even more abhorrent than before. They whirred, and cheeped; lights flashed intermittently on various combined appendages. Then everything fell silent and the lights blinked out of existence.

  Dawkins let go and watched them plummet a mile to the ground, into the flames of the Palace.

  *****

  “That meant to happen?” Mary Porter asked, sipping furtively at her tea, which was now the wrong side of tepid.

  The Contraptor offered her a reproachful glance. “Would you still like a job at the end of the day?”

  She didn’t answer. In truth, she wished she was the hero’s secretary. He seemed to have his shit together in a way that The Contraptor could only dream of.

  “So what now?”

  “I’m going to take the ship home, and then I’m going to have a lie down,” he told her. “When I wake up, I expect a nice warm bath with all the trimmings.”

  Mary Porter agreed to his demands, which were fairly innocuous considering his super-villain status. Later, as she poured bubble-bath into the not-too-hot, not-too-cold water, she envisioned that majestic knight, soaring through the air, coming to rescue her from the grips of a madman. It was enough to make her swoon.

  *****

  The armor was back behind its glass, and the front window was being replaced a week on Thursday. Roger Dawkins sat back in his chair, nibbling gingerly on his third cheese sandwich of the day.

  And what a day it had been.

  He’d failed to capture the evil mind behind the steam daemons, but he knew he would eventually. It was only a matter of time before the mystery super-villain attempted to destroy the city again. They were like addicts, unable to stop. Evil was a disease, and as long as it continued to infect people Dawkins would keep the suit polished and ready. It was a part of him, a part of the city.

  His city.

  His London.

  Keely

  D. Alan Lewis

  She fell from the sky without fanfare or notice by the few inhabitances that still called this God-forsaken city home. I doubt that anyone, save the four of us who stood near the impact point, witnessed the event that was to change everything. Her youthful form dropped through the black fog that hung over the city and she hit with such force that cobblestones for a dozen feet around her went to powder.

  Dodging the debris and dust that arose around her, I approached. The stonework of Warner Place had opened up and cradled the young woman like a babe in its mother’s arms. Her nude form lay still and I strained to see if her lungs took in breath. As a man in my thirties, I’d seen nude women many times, but I felt awkward about looking at her. I felt that my concentration on her chest would give others pause to speculate as to my intentions. Her chest didn’t pulse as if breaths were drawn and that brought on a profound sense of loss. Only her long blond hair moved, dancing in the wind.

  “Did ya see that?” an old woman said as she stepped up to my side. “A bit unseemly, I’d say. Guess she flung herself off the roof. Another jumper I reckon.” She scoffed when my eyes didn’t move away from the young woman. “Could’ve had the decency to have put a stitch or two on before leaping.”

  I glanced at her and nodded slightly. An elderly couple braved the dust as well to get a look at her. While the old man studied the scene intently, his wife tugged at his arm not wanting to see what she assumed was a tragedy. She nagged him to take her home until he finally gave in and they walked off without another word spoken.

  The number of folks who’d jumped from the rooftop or taken their own lives had steadily increased after the European continent had formally collapsed and fallen into the hands of the Otherworlders. The number increased even more when word reached us that the Americans had fallen as well.

  With England now standing alone against the alien horde, most people had lost hope and only longed for a quick, painless end. I couldn’t blame them. The Otherworlders wanted more than just land, they wanted us. Every captured soul in the occupied lands was nothing more than food stock, assuming that anyone other than the aliens still lived in those blackened lands. And London stood almost empty due to the daily shells that rained in each afternoon from the massive cannons on the northern coast of France.

  My gaze moved to the rooftops and I scanned for any signs of foul play. A naked girl just doesn’t fall from the sky, but what bothered me were the heights of the surrounding structures. The buildings were simply not tall enough for someone to have garnered the speed to make such a devastating impact. When my eyes returned to her, I lacked the ability to unders
tand why her body didn’t show more signs of damage or distress. The impact should have shattered her petite form, spilling blood and organs everywhere.

  But she lay there as beautiful as a sleeping princess, awaiting a prince to kiss and awaken her. Flawless, pale flesh and golden locks were a stark contrast to the dark, crumbled stones that she lay in, like a pearl resting within the black and gray shell of an oyster.

  “I don’t think she jumped,” I whispered, only to hear the old woman scoff again.

  Cautiously, I stepped into the crater and knelt beside her. Her chest heaved slightly, and I almost jumped. Clearing my throat, I looked back to the old woman.

  “She’s alive. She’s breathing,” my voice shook slightly, hinting at the fear within me. She couldn’t be natural, maybe not even of this world. No one could have survived a fall like that. I inwardly cursed my inability to deal with the moment in a calm and manly manner. “She, she must be hurt. Is there a carriage about?”

  “Bloomin’ city is emptied out. Ain’t nobody around here exceptin’ you and me.”

  My mind raced on what course of action I should take. She needed help, medical attention and what not, but without a cart, that meant carrying the lass a dozen or so blocks to the nearest hospital. My flat lay just around the corner, but still, I wasn’t a doctor, not in the medical sense, anyway. And there was the meeting that I should already be sitting at.

  I had hoped to catch one of the steambuses that still operated in order to get to Whitehall and the War Office. My meeting wasn’t urgent. It was more of the usual updating the Admiralty on my efforts. I’m a scientist, a tinkerer, and since the war started, a weapons designer.

  I started to scoop her into my arms but hesitated. It’d be unseemly to carry a nude young woman about town, let alone into my flat. I glanced at the old woman and caught sight of a flagpole behind her. The impact had damaged the stones beneath it, causing it to tilt over. I bolted over to it, snatched the Union Jack that dangled from its midpoint and returned to her. With care, I wrapped her up and then lifted the unconscious woman from the damaged stones.

  The young woman’s body fell limp in my arms. I groaned at the weight, estimating her at fourteen stone. Yet, she was a tiny little thing and appeared to weigh half that amount.

  “Whatchya gonna do with her?” the old woman yelled as I started toward my flat.

  I stopped and hesitated, not really knowing what the best course of action would be. Looking back, I replied, “Taking her home. My woman can see to her needs while I fetch a doctor.”

  Then I stopped, remembering the situation at home. I had no woman or servants of any kind, not any more. My housekeeper had abandoned me and the city after the enemy’s shells began to fall. All that awaited us in my flat was a laboratory and enough food for a month of good eating. Still, there were few options and her weight prohibited me from carrying her all the way to the hospital.

  “On second thought, my woman has escaped the city. Perhaps, you could assist?” I asked. “I’m lousy when it comes to cooking and I’m sure she needs a meal and what-not.”

  She looked annoyed until I mentioned food. “Well, mind ya that I’m only coming along causin’ it wouldn’t be proper for a man your age to be carrying a girl like that about.”

  “I have others at the lab, several men who assist me in my work, but they’d be no help with…’ I said and nodded towards the woman in my arms.

  As I did so, my eyes fixated on her round face. Without a doubt, her beauty was beyond measure. She had rich full lips that were as red as crimson and a small nose, which turned up slightly at the tip. My thoughts were so dazzled by her appearance that I failed to see anything else, including the old woman as she approached. She stepped quickly to my side and gave me a suspicious look.

  “Call me Mattie.”

  I nodded and glanced over at her, “umm—and I am Thomas Laybourne, the third. My friends call me Tom.”

  “Hmm, nice to be makin’ your acquaintance, Mr. Laybourne.”

  *****

  As we reached my flat, a lamplighter tilted his hat at us and started up his ladder. He glanced back down at us once the coal gas in the lantern was aflame. The warm yellow glow fell on the sidewalk and reminded me of better times.

  “I know it’s only twoish, but they’re saying it’s gonna be a particular dark one, this day. Word is, that more blackness is rolling in over the channel,” he said and climbed down.

  Tilting my head back, I spied the black clouds that rolled and churned overhead. These weren’t storm clouds bringing in the much-needed rain to our lands. No one knew for certain what kind of gases floated in our skies or what their purpose was. We only knew that the Otherworlders created the clouds for their own diabolical purpose.

  “Never thought I’d be complainin’ ‘bout the sun. That fireball always was too bright for these old eyes, but I’d like ta see it again,” Mattie said.

  The government called them Otherworlders, but most people called them slugs due to their thick, slimy bodies. They first appeared, or landed, in the Russian frontier. In short order, they conquered and claimed those cold lands as their own. No one was certain how they built the first smoke factory. Some, like myself, thought the first ships may have contained small factories within them. Whatever the truth was, they began pumping out a seemingly endless torrent of thick black smoke. As additional ships arrived from whatever world they left behind, more and larger smoke factories sprang up. With all of Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Americas under their thumbs, hundreds of factories kept adding to the thick layer that already engulfed most of the Earth.

  “Let’s get her inside,” I said and climbed the six steps up to my front door.

  Mattie nodded to the building next to mine. “Why would ya be wanting to live here? A brownstone nestled up close to a factory?”

  A short laugh escaped me, “Factory? No, no. That is my laboratory.”

  My flat would never win awards from the women who used to run the local neighborhood societies. Its décor showed all the attributes of bachelorhood. Dishes lay everywhere and not enough attention to cleaning had caused a light coating of dust to form on every unused surface.

  I carried her upstairs to my guest bedroom, with Mattie in tow. As we entered, I nodded to the bed. She caught my meaning and pulled the linens back as I laid the young woman down.

  “Mattie, if you’ll remain here at her side, I’ll fetch a doctor,” I said, but then hesitated. Something about her just kept me in place. My hand reached for hers as I sat beside her. My attention shifted away from her briefly as I turned to the old woman. I couldn’t explain my feelings, almost like panic at the thought of being away from her. “On second thought, would you please fetch the doctor? My friend Percy Hunter lives nearby. He has some medical training. I can give you the address.”

  With a nod, she answered, “Ole man Hunter? You don’t has to tell me where he’s at. When I get back with him, I’ll be inspecting that kitchen of yours and fixing meself a decent meal.” She glanced back and forth between the young woman and me. “Can I trust you to be a decent gentleman while I’m gone?”

  “Of course, she’ll come to no harm or exploitation in your absence.” I answered.

  I walked Mattie to the front door, handing her two pence as we descended the stairs. When the door opened, the soft droning of propellers could be heard. She seemed excited and bolted down the stairs and scanned the sky. I followed suit and kept my eyes over the rooftops to the north. Within short order, six airships appeared below the blackened clouds. The gray of their skin along with the brilliance of their running lights made the vivid colors of the Union Jacks and other banners stand out.

  “Beautiful, ain’t they?” she said, never looking away from the majestic sight of the floating warships. “Look at ‘em. Who’d thought a few years ago that they’d even have been built, let alone be our only salvation from the slu
gs. God bless the blokes that made ‘em.”

  “Thank you, Mattie,” I said and saw her shoot me a crooked glance. I waved to my laboratory and workshop behind us. “I designed much of their systems for the War Office. That’s what I do and why I’m still in London. I’m a weapons and munitions designer. The first engine prototype used on those ships was built and tested thirty feet from where we’re standing.”

  She looked me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time. “Well, ain’t things just full of surprises today?” We turned and watched the airships disappear over the rooftops. “Hope those lads bomb them slugs real good.”

  “I’m curious. The government ordered the civilian and nonessential folks to clear out of the city. So….”

  “Are you sayin’ I’m not essential?” she said and shook her head. “I’ve been in London all me life and I’m not lettin’ any slug or royal tell me to go. Besides, I got no place outside of here, so I reckon I’m here till the end. And I ain’t alone. Lots of us around here aren’t gonna pack up.”

  A thought struck me and I drew my pocket watch to check the time.

  “You better hurry,” I said and snapped the watch’s cover closed. “Almost two. The shelling will start up in an hour or so. And wrap that scarf around a second time. The clouds are going to thicken later, so the temperature will drop lower.”

  “Here’s hopin’ we ain’t gonna have snow dropping on us again, like last week,” Mattie complained and adjusted her collar. “I remember when June was supposed to be a warm summer month.”