The Iron Colosseum
Clickity clack, clickity clack, clickity clack.Victor Hightower listened, eyes shut, to the rhythmatic rolling of the
Thorium Duchess class locomotive as it smoothly rolled across the steel rails, making its way towards the great arena in the dark heart of the capital city.
It was all part of the plan, of course, though not many would be audacious enough to concoct a plan to steal weapon schematics - something simple enough on the surface - that involved him getting captured and transported on a prison train to the death matches regularly put on for the dual purposes of entertainment and execution of criminals.
Victor was actually starting to drift off when he was rudely kicked in the ribs, jolting him back to full consciousness.
Get up, traitor snarled the brute of a guard, his crisp blue uniform and kepi contrasting sharply with the cold steel of his buttons and boots.
It's showtime for you, his expression morphing into a perverse grin.
Victor stood, shaking the final cobwebs from his brain, before the guard shoved him line with the other prisoners exiting the prison car. The sharp black iron of the Colosseum was dull even in the brilliant sunset, while the bronze highlights gleamed in it. Twilight would soon be here - this match would be fought under the vacuum tube lights and Nixie displays that ringed the complex.
Keep moving growled the same guard before, others dressed like him appearing to contain his group and lead them into the Steamwerks hidden in the bowels of the Colosseum, where they would arm up and then face their doom.
Or at least, that was the idea. For his part, the plan at no point involved him sticking around to die.
* * *
The burly quartermaster in charge of the armory was practically ripping things off the wall, shoving them in Victor's hands and attempting to explain their function at the same time.
This is your chest piece, and that's your greaves and vambraces, tossing them to him, [/i]that'll keep you alive long enough for the Emperor to consider it "sporting". Its powered and the boiler in the back should have enough to keep you going for the whole match. Just don't get hit there, that'll make it lock up and these are very expensive pieces of equipment.[/i] Next he placed an oddly-shaped pistol into his hands. [/i]That's your standard-issue Mark V Needler pist-[/i]
Victor cut him off here with a wry look. [/i]I know what a whistler is, and how they work. I'm the rebel scum here, remember?[/i]
The quartermaster furrowed his brow for a second, attempting to recall the information. He seemed to do so, wordlessly tossing Victor a couple of miniature boiler power packs, along with a bandolier full of the flechette shells the steam guns fired, before turning back to the wall and removing another weapon from the wall.
Mark XI Clockwerk sword he said, sliding it into a sheath and buckling that himself onto Victor's belt as he himself was placing the armor on, taking care to avoid cutting himself on the razor-sharp gear edges running along the outer edges. [/i]I'll assume you know what this too.[/i]
A Nixie display on a panel in the corner flashed up a five. The quartermaster glanced at it briefly before turning back.
Best get out there, the show's about to begin.Victor nodded, fully armored now, Needler now in its shoulder holster.
Wish me luck he said as he turned, giving a sarcastic wave.
Yeah, screw you too grunted the quartermaster.
* * *
The packed Colosseum roared as the combatants were raised to the surface on the elevators, Victor in the center, the four other criminals at the corners.
Ladies and gentlemen boomed the announcer, [/i]for your pleasure tonight we present a traitor to our great Empire and Realm, a rebel who has taken everything our glorious monarch has given the good people of this land and thrown it back in his face! Against four inmates of our justice system, who have volunteered themselves for this dangerous task in hopes of winning a pardon from His Benevolence![/i]
Victor looked around, the other four armed the same way he was, already approaching him from all sides. Evidently the Emperor - who was dead ahead of him in a luxury box, he was sure, even though he couldn't see it - though him sufficiently dangerous to warrant lopsided odds such as those. It was almost flattering, in a way.
Suddenly, one of them tripped and fell, his powered-up and whirring Mark XI heading straight for his face. He barely he time to give a shout before it tore its way through his neck, blood and flesh flying everywhere in a fine spray.
Somewhere the scorekeeper manipulated his analog computer, and the Nixie display that had previously shown "SENSAR" in bold red letters dimmed.
Make that three-to-one odds.
* * *
Sometime later Victor was once again standing in the center of the arena, bloodied and bearing a nasty scar where a Clockwerk sword had grazed his upper arm, as well as a puncture wound from a Needler in lower leg.
But he was alive. That was all that mattered. He didn't even notice - much - the loud boos emnating from the upper-class seating sections.
Well, that was a fine show there, rebel spoke the announcer in a condescending tone. [/i]Truly, no one here can say you traitors don't have some steel in you. But I'm afraid we can't let you leave here alive, so...[/i]
Six soldiers exited from hidden ports in the walls of the arena, leveling Mark III rifles at his head and chest. Victor stared them down, waiting, waiting.
The crowd had grown silent now, likewise waiting for the whistling report of the rifles that gave them their ubitqious nickname.
What they heard, though, was not that high-pitched characteristic sound, but instead six deep rumbles and a loud roar as six massive shells plummeted into the arena. Landing with a loud clangs in the bronze floor of the Colosseum, six rebel soldiers emerged, firing into the soldiers, dropping them.
Took you guys long enough shouted Victor, rushing towards them as they moved up, ducking as yet more soldiers poured onto the floor. Evidently they'd decided they weren't taking chances with this match, fat lot of good it was going to do them.
Further complicating matters for His Majesty's finest was the enormous landclad that had just blown through the wall, bearing the insignia of the rebels. The hatch in front in the infantry carrier section had opened up, more soldiers leaning out to lay down covering fire for Victor and his six rescuers as they rushed towards it. Up top a Needler machinegun - these nicknamed "Screechers" due to the continuous howl of the firing action - added to the hail of flechettes, filling the air with the deadly steel projectiles.
Victor piled in as the hatch closed and metal monster began to reverse itself, panting heavily before turning to look at his cigar-chomping superior sitting on the command couch, a half-annoyed, half-grinning sarcastic look on face.
Major. he said. He knew what he was going to finish with.
Complications, Lieutenant Hightower. The army actually had a smart guy manning one of the checkpoints instead the usual conscripted idiots, and it required a little...persuasion to convince him we were loyal servants of His Majesty out on a patrol. Plus we had to kill him. But anyway, I think you'll agree it was much more dramatic pulling your ass out of the fire in this manner.Victor simply rolled his eyes.
I trust you have the plans from Project Atlas? asked the Major. Victor nodded, [/i]Damn good thing I do too. This Universal Colossus is far more deadly than any of us suspected - an enormous clockwerk construct with some serious death and destruction potential.[/i] He reached into his pants, withdrawing a small metal tube. Inside was a tiny pice of metal with intricate grooves and pits on its surface.
Chip's inside. The engineers can place it into an analog computer, and it'll print out the schematics. A fascinating little device, really.Good, good said the Major taking the chip and delicately placing it into a small metal tube. [/i]How did you smuggle this out anyway?[/i]
Trust me, Major, you don't want to know replied Victor, even as gestured towards his rear.
The Major groaned.
God in heaven, I hope you found time to wash the tube before you gave it to me.(( Wanted to show the combat in the middle, but I ran out of time.
Come to think of it, since this was late I probably could have just written that in, but whatever. ))
(( EDIT: Also, the edit was a formatting problem. ))
