Iron-willed

Winchester dragged his feet tiredly as he walked down the factory’s catwalk. Drilling, hammering and hum of machines beneath him were far too familiar to him by now. He despised it. He spat the tobacco he was chewing onto the catwalk.

“Blasted black-bloods taking all joy from our existence.”

The tobacco he spat out slowly dripped through the floor onto the head of a worker beneath him. Annoyed by the changes in life, Winchester was far too oblivious to such details.

The worker beneath, shocked by the sudden strange substance that landed on his head, swung his hand away in panic, hitting a lever beside him.

A steam horn screamed throughout the entirety of the factory. The machine the man was operating whirred to life, pushing the conveyor line forth and firing up the incinerator.

“Ah shit!” The man shouted, reaching for the lever.

Winchester leaned against the railing, looking down at the raising commotion beneath.

“Heh…” He grinned, watching the scene unfold him, bemused by the unfolding chaos. The lever was stuck. The conveyors were not filled with scrap, they were filled with assembly parts of the metal-dingus, as the cowboys called them, but to common folk they were known as the overseers.

Metallic creatures, akin to spiders in shape, that roamed the city’s streets and served ‘justice’. If one could call it such, considering that the ‘justice’ usually implied murder with no trial or even consideration of circumstances. Winchester watched the conveyor pour dozens of pieces of overseers into the incinerator, remembering the recent headlines in the newspapers.

“News boy killed for picking up his own dropped newspapers, seize this madness, seize the machine operation.”

“Burn and go to hell ye fucking dingus.” Winchester mumbled to himself, oblivious to the fact that one such creature hung right above him. He heard a clank, a hiss, and then another clank, a loud one, right behind him.

“Ah shit, you’re fucking with me like yer fucking with a Mingus…”

He glanced over his shoulder at the metallic abomination that stood two heads taller than himself, and Winchester was by no means a small guy. Leader of the Cogless, a band of cowboys that, until recently, were feared by all in this region.

The spider-like metallic creature hissed, letting out excess steam. The black smoke poured out of its exhaust as its metallic heart, its core, heated up and its many legs sprung into action, leaping at Winchester, and blinding him tightly in a metallic embrace that resembled shackles.

2 of its legs wrapped tightly around him, and then clicked and disconnected, leaving the creature with 4 more to walk on, Winchester could hardly move, or even breathe by now.

“Go on ye ugly dingus! Go on and kill us.”

As the air escaped his lunges and breathing became ever more difficult, Winchester found himself succumbing to the darkness in the death’s embrace.

Winchester faded back into the world of consciousness as a loose spring dug into his skin.

“Ah blasted hells, here I am, in the basement’s cells.”

He threw his legs over the edge of his bunk, glancing around the dimly lit prison cell in the dungeons of the former duke’s mansion. Cells he was quite familiar with, for he had spent many nights here in the past, during the duke’s rule.

“He’s fucked…” A woman complained, spitting out into a bucket, feet up on the table, a tankard of ale in her hand. “What do you propose we do now, huh? Winston?”

“I am working on that Regina… Calm your t…” he began but then another man slammed his tankard on their table.

“Winston please, you’re naught but a puppet in this theatre, stop acting like you got it under control.”

“Percy you can go back to cowering in your corner, I’ll get him out one way or another. Those machines are slaughtering innocent.”

“Oh boohoo like we never did.” The woman added.

“Yea but that’s US! We at least have a heart…” He proceeded and then paused. “I mean, sort of…”

The woman grinned. “Sure, like that one time you executed a father of four in front of his kids eh, Mr. Good Guy.”

“Regina… I had reasons.” He calmly tried to explain, and as he turned, he suddenly faced the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.

“Winston how about I blow yer fucking brains out and then we’ll calmly discuss Winchester’s rescue plan.”

Winston turned. The barrel dug into his skin, dragging against it, leaving a bloodied scrape in its wake.

“Mingus, if you wanna fight, let’s ring us.” He grinned. “I’ll take you on with but me’ fists. No need for steel, no chance for you exists.”

Mingus gritted his teeth.

“Winchester wouldn’t approve…” Off to the side, at the table next to theirs sat another man. He slowly clapped and yawned.

 Regina sighed.

“Fucking Percy the mute man decides to join in… Oh never mind, he doesn’t give a fuck.” She shot a glance at the scar-faced man who was clapping.

His expression read ‘bemused’ and ‘keep going, I wanna see who dies first’ and yet not a single word escaped his mouth.

“Winston, do you know where they took him?” Mingus inquired calmly, ignoring Regina’s remarks.

“No Mingus… I don’t fucking know where they took him else I’d have had all our men out there besieging the damned place already. Though I do know that our spies are out there gathering intel as we speak, I’ll know before the break of dawn.”

Mingus nodded slowly. “Sieging the metal-dinguses sounds like a shit idea though, maybe I should do the rescue planning if your plan is to go guns blazing?”

Regina grinned, unclipping a revolver from her hip and slamming it on the table.

“YEEHAW! Guns blazing is at least fun. We’re Cogless not Ballsless!” She grinned.

“And yet you are both…” Mingus remarked with a sly grin.

“Oh shut the fuck up you whiny bastard before I shoot yours off.”

“Alright let’s settle…” Winston suggested, leaning back. “Settle and wait until the metal we break.”

Cups flew up in the air.

“CHEERS!”

“DOWN TO THE LAST DROP!” The crowd at the pub cheered, chugging another tankard.

“Seconds?” Inquired the barkeeper, glancing at Winston. Winston glanced up at the keeper and nodded. “Let us choose the next drink from a barrel.”

 He nodded. “Right this way, boss.” Winston, Regina, Mingus and the silent Percy all got up to follow the barkeeper into the backrooms and down the hatch to the cellar.

In the dark, musty smelling cellar, a group of three men, draped in black, raggedy cloaks, greeted Winston and his party. The barkeeper was quick to take his leave, he had no business mingling with the thieves and the bandits.

“We found ‘im.” One of the cloaked figured said, sitting on a barrel of booze, fiddling with a knife in his hands. “What ya got for the intel?”

“Money.” Mingus responded, unbinding a coin purse from his belt.

“Nah fuck that, we got yer miserable lives.” Regina replied, reaching for her revolver. “How about it huh, ye slimey fucks.”

“Oh my, how intimidating…” Replied another cloaked figured, leaning against the ladder in the back, barely visible with his dark clothes. “Perhaps that’d work, on mere info-brokers, not us though.”

Winston took a step in front of Regina. “No threats. Cogless won’t ruin their relation with the dwellers of the night.” He respectfully made eye contact with each of the cloaked figures. “Your intel, for our protection for a month. In addition, Mingus’s coin purse, enough to buy a bordello out for a week. He took a steady step forth, holding his hand out. “How about it?”

The one who stood at the center, closest to them, took a step forth. “Three caravan escorts from your people, we don’t need you for a month…”

Winston sighed. “Two, but we’ll go till the border.”

“Deal.” The hands were shaken and info was shared.

“Duke’s palace… Shit that’s the heart of the metal-dingus’s empire. If we bring our loco there and retrofit it with cannons and extra plating we might succeed in breaking through their defenses.”

“That’s a great fucking idea!” Regina commended the plan. “We blow them to smitherins and then blow their remnants into more smitherins.”

“No, that’s a shit plan and you know it… We got merely a hundred men… with all working together even then we hardly have the firepower for that to work. It’d be a group suicide.” Mingus replied, spitting into the bucket. “I’ll drink from that bucket before I agree to that plan.”

“Got a better idea then?” Winston said, leaning back and folding his hands on his stomach, smirking. “Go on, genius of strategy. Tell us.”

Mingus glanced over at Percy who nodded. Then Mingus pulled out a paper scroll and unfolded it.

“Got the palace’s layout and construction plans here. Percy noticed something… Look here.” He pointed at the canal that went through the palace. On the other side of it were train tracks, the railroad that Winston proposed they use in his guns blazing plan.

“So the fuck we do? Dive in like some ninjas from the comics? Sneak past the guards and…” Regina proceeded to mock Percy’s and Mingus’s plan, but that was exactly their plan.

“Indeed. The canal is least defended, only a few layers of bars, and from there we can get…” He paused and pointed at an opening, a small tunnel leading into the dungeons. “Sewer line. They won’t expect any infiltration through it. Small team of 4-5, under my guidance.” Mingus explained.

“And where’s the fun? Explosions? Shooting?” Regina complained. “Fucking lame!”

Winston pondered for a moment. “And escape?”

Percy leaned over Mingus’s shoulder and pointed at the mountains behind the palace on the map. Mingus nodded.

“There should be an emergency escape path for the former duke that leads into the mountains. We’ll use that, rescue party will be waiting there, 20-30 men, armed to the teeth in case of pursuit.”

“Should be…?” Winston inquired, distrusting the plan.

“Well, we couldn’t find it anywhere in the plans but… some sources informed us of its whereabouts. Armory in the dungeon, entrance through there, northern wall they said.” Mingus proceeded.

“What fucking sources? Miners that dug the fucking thing?”

“Precisely.” Mingus explained. “I have high trust in that intel.”

Winston smirked, shaking his head. “And you called my plan a suicide, yet here you are planning to crawl through sewers like a rat and then escape through the armory of a duke’s palace, the literal barracks.” “Yeah but the duke is no more, and neither is his personal guard… I don’t suspect the metal-dinguses use the barracks for r-n-r…”

Winston nodded. “Possibly… or we walk into a fucking army of them. No…” Winston shook his head. “As plausible as it sounds, I can’t trust that you’d be able to get the boss out safely when you’ve to walk through the damned barracks of the overseers. We’ll attack them head on and force our way through their ranks and into the cells.”

“FUCK YEAH!” Regina supported the decision. “Can I use the thing? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!” Regina begged needily.

“Go ham.” Winston winked at her.

“OH FUCK TO THE SEVEN HELLS! YEA BOY!”

“Winston that’s a mistake…” Mingus commented, holding him by the shoulder while Winston tried to walk past him.

“Chill man… We got this. We’ll load up the loco to shit with armor, they won’t stand a chance and never expect a locomotive full of guns blazing cowboys to just roll up to their station. We got cannons and harpoons too, it’ll be a piece of cake.” He said, pushing against Mingus and leaving the tavern for the day.

The machine roared to life. The deafening whistle of the locomotive signals the start of the operation. An armed group of bandits on horseback accompanies the locomotive that had make-shift turtle armor bolted on all around it, and the single wagon it pulled along.

The wagon had the same make-shift armor encompassing it, with openable slits throughout the entire length of it. “Alright lads this’ll fucking suck and it’ll be very loud, and hot! Prepare to meet death and give it a sweaty bloody embrace. For our boss we’ll rock their metallic world.” The thirty or so men and women inside the wagon cheered, loading their weapons and readying the two cannons on elevating platforms at the back.

Rhythmic dings turned louder and more frequent. Like rain pouring over the metallic roof, except the rain was made of lead as the guard force of the metal-dinguses surrounding the palace unloaded all their arsenal on the imminent threat.

“Hah! She’s holding the fuck up ain’t she?” Regina called out from the cannon in the back.

“We got enough steel to face an army.” He commented with a grin as something whizzed past him with a whistle, bounced off a metal plate of 1 of the seats, and then something else fell to the floor with a thud.

“OH MY GOD! THEY KILLED KEVIN!! YOU BASTARDS!” Shouted another man as he pulled the slit in the armor open and poked his rifle out, shooting angry shot after shot.

“FIRE AT WILL! NOT THAT WILL!” He pointed at a guy named Will who looked shocked for a moment.

The rhythmic beating of the lead rain against the steel roof was now deafened by the chaotic road of rifles and pistols, accompanied by curses and shouts.

“FUCKING JAMMED” Shouted a man.

“I TOLD YOU I PREFER HAM!” Responded another.

The bullets were flying in and out of the train.

Slipping through the slits out of which the bandits fired, ricocheting all around the wagon, like a dancer lost in the rhythm of a song.

His ears rang.

Bodies fell to the floor.

The air in the wagon swiftly took on a stench of sweat, black powder, and blood. A stench of war, and a poorly made decision.

The steel plates creaked and squealed as the rear opened up for the cannon fire.

Each shot shook the wagon on the tracks as the locomotive eased to a stop.

With the final clank of the wheels, the final shot rang through the wagon. In the sudden silence, he could only hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, it was deafening. The stench was suffocating.

“Winston! You good man?”

Winston perked up, peering out the peep hole. A ruined wall covered in metallic bits and black blood greeted him. He slowly glanced over his shoulder at another man.

“Holy shit man, you’re covered in blood.”

It is only now, as someone mentioned it, did Winston notice the searing pain in his left shoulder and right thigh. “Fuck!” He cursed, gritting his teeth.

“Guess I caught a few huh…?”

The man pushed him back against the wall, feeling the back of his shoulder. “This 1 is through, you’ll be fine, the leg however…”

He glanced down at the wound, his blood gushing out.

“Fuck me dead.”

“Dude! Take me out on dinner first what the fuck?” Regina jested, loading her rifle.

The first aid was quite simplistic, but it was enough to stop the bleeding. They poured gunpowder into his wound and lit it, cauterizing it.

“Fuck that hurts like shit.”

“Mate you need to eat better if that’s how it is for you…” The man that administered the aid responded. Winston glanced around the wagon, recounting the corpses and wounded.

“Out of 30, about 12 left fighting capable?” The man nodded. “And you’re not 1 of em boss.”

He glanced at the injured leg on which he couldn’t stand. “We’ll guard the loco, you get the boss.”

Regina walking past him, made sure to slap his injured leg. “So whiny. Man up Winston, or nobody’ll be left to fulfill your wish.” She winked and then pulled the door open, leaping out.

Something clanked against the metallic roof armor of the wagon.

Winston, along with two others, semi battle capable men got up to their feet, listening for the noise. It moved along the wagon, from the rear toward the front, toward the locomotive.

“That ain’t 1 of ours.” A man with a missing left arm, armed with a revolver, noted.

“It’s the metal-dingus, for sure. On me.” Winston responded, limping his way toward the door.

“Let the driver handle it…” Replied another man, limping behind them.

“He’s alone.” Winston responded, “as is the metal cunt…” He paused with his hand on the handle. The sounds stopped.

“Ready?”

The two men accompanying him nodded. Slowly he pushed the handle down and began to slide the door. It creaked and squealed loudly as the bent metal scraped against the other plates.

He pulled back the hammer of his revolver, ready to fire. A sharp metallic leg, like an icepick, aimed straight at his head, took a swift swing. He ducked out of the way, but behind him he heard a crack, and a splatter.

‘Fuck, another one bites the dust.’ He thought to himself. He pointed the revolver up and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet pierced the metallic joint, black-blood spilled, covering his shoulder and part of his face in oil. He leaped out of the train, pulling back the trigger once more. As he took aim, there was nothing to fire at. There were merely 2 detached legs, attached right above the door, to function as a trap.

The other man, in panic, unloaded his entire drum at the leg, but Winston ignored the panicked bandit in the train, and the sounds of gunfire. He gritted his teeth, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Soil shifted beneath his feet. He tried to get up but the sharp pain in his thigh stopped him. Pushing himself to the best of his ability he fell sidewise, just barely out of the sinkhole, with his legs still dangling in it.

As he scrambled to crawl away, something grasped his foot, pulling him down.

“Ahhh! Not so fast!” He gripped the handle of the revolver tightly, taking aim. As soon as the overseer’s body came into view he fired three shots. Two bounced off of the overseer’s metallic carapace, but a single 1 pierced one of its several eyes. The creature lost its grip momentarily, giving Winston a chance to crawl away.

He barely managed to put enough distance between himself and the sinkhole to have the time to load an extra round into his drum before the creature leaped out of the hole. Its sharp legs like a dart, pointed straight down as it descended, but Winston managed to roll out of the harm’s way.

Another shot; it whizzed away, a ricochet.

“Fucking metal-cunt eat shit!” He squeezed the trigger once more. The bullet went through the softer part of the metallic head at the bottom, and then dinged against the top shell, scrambling the creature’s internals, but not enough to disable it. He squeezed the trigger yet again shouting out of despair.

“DIE DIE DIE!”

The revolver clicked; nothing happened.

‘Ah shit… I’m Winchester…’ He thought to himself, realizing he was out of ammo with no time and no other weapon at his side.

“GO ON THEN!” Winston gritted his teeth spreading his arms. Thunder roared behind him, and then a rain of metallic bits hit him as a cannonball obliterated the overseer before him.

“HAHH! EAT STEEL YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!” He glanced over his shoulder to see Regina mounting one of the cannons, with a broad grin on her face. The party returned and helped him back into the train.

“Where’s Winchester?” Winston asked, glancing around in confusion. The entire party was back, no one missing, and no Winchester.

“Wasn’t there…” Regina replied with a shrug.

“What do you mean wasn’t there?”

“Exactly what I fucking said… His cell was fucking empty, a single note ‘Fuck them all’, definitely Winchester but fuck do I know where the cunt went.”

“Fuck… Retreat. Have the machinist drive us back.”

A loud bang on the door, three of them, and then the locomotive’s steam engine roared to life. The wagon jerked into movement, and the band was on their way back to their base.

“You’re shitting me right?” Winston complained, his gaze fixated firmly on Winchester who was leaning back in his chair, with Mingus by his side. “I told you Winston, my plan was better, but you guys made our escape a piece of cake with the distraction and a frontal assault.” He winked.

There was a shot, and a thud.