The Attack of 1852 (A Steampunk Contest Entry)

Thaddeus Hepburn sat in the smoky pub, sipping an acrid shot. The vapour rising from the knock-off whiskey burnt his eyes before it had chance to sting his lips. The Faulty Gear was not known for quality liquor, but it was where he needed to be.

He shuddered as the fire smacked the back of his throat, searing down his oesophagus. It was cold out, he knew he needed warmth in his belly for the night he had ahead.

Tonight marked the start of the foretold Five Black Days. The sun that had set that evening, would not penetrate the foul city air for days. The Institute of The Forgotten had long hunted the creatures lurking in their pea-soup miasma. All the readings predicted, this would be the worst attack yet.

Thaddeus had been with the Order since they found him on the dirty streets of London, wrestling dogs for the scraps. The hungry life of a chimney sweep had been all that stretched before him, forced to wriggling into tight, sooty crevices that would have eventually become his tomb. The Institute gave him an alternative he had happily pledged his life to.

He rested his hand on the large briefcase carefully positioned on the seat next to him. The sweet smell of smoke and stale liquor filled crowded the room, thankfully, the sloshed regulars were too engaged in each other to notice him.

He slipped his hand into the briefcase, letting his fingers rest of the familiar weapon.

It would need time to warm up. He traced the outline of the dials, adjusting the selections until he heard the satisfying click that preceded the jutter of gears gasping into life.

The creature he was hunting would not go down easily. The round, tinted glasses he wore would make it easier to spot the beasts. They exhaled a thick, dirty vapour that clung to the street of London like an anxious child. Slinking between the snickelways; they stalked their victims, letting their toxic breath hang heavy in the air.

He glanced out of the leaded window, the writhing flames of the street lights were barely visible through the creep of fog.

The pack would hunt tonight.

Thaddeus risked a low glance below his glasses, into the illuminated crack of his clasp topped briefcase.

The light emitted had a pale blue tone. It wasn’t charged yet.

Thaddeus had hunted many times before, but never alone. The Order were normally very rigid in their adherence to the precedents, the sheer numbers predicted to arrive had forced their hand.

He felt a twinge of guilt as he saw a tom-cat, dolled up in her cheap lace, leading a client down an alley. He always wished they could warn people, but the panic would have been uncontrollable.

The danger he sought to protect them from was best left as unconfirmed speculation. The scale of his steam powered weaponry alone would have caused serious alarm to his fellow patrons. They didn’t need to see the high powered propulsion gun that dwarfed anything they were carrying.

The Order had been founded in the mid-1600's, as a response to the invasive predatory species. Under the pretence of orphanages, urchins were taken in from the streets to be educated in what became The Institute of the Forgotten. There, over the centuries, they had honed some of the finest steam powered technology they could imagine.

As the Order advanced, so did the creatures. Proliferating in number, striking in larger clouds of death. Then came the second waves. Smaller versions of the creatures that clung to the rising industries, producing consistent low levels of their toxic vapour to hinder their preys advancements.

Secrecy became paramount, as the creatures poisoned the air, weakening the workforce; the Institute went underground, below the fumes of the cities.

The wait was painful, Thaddeus kept the low glow of light from his bag in his peripheral vision. The moment the tone switched to a healthy green, he slammed down the last of his gut-rot with a shudder, and strode out of the bar.

---

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The first night was a massacre; the beasts came in numbers beyond imagine.

The deadly miasma hanging heavy in the air made it impossible for Thaddeus to see more than a few centimetres before him. He could sense the dark beasts shifting through the shadows.

He stopped under the pallid glow of the streetlight, barely able to see into his bag. He didn’t like having to carry the lamp and propulsion gun, but he needed the visibility.

A small metal can fed a protruding bulb, and pulling a plunger with a click, the bulb burst into life.

Thaddeus could still only see a few feet before him. The clammy grip of his gas mask gave the foul air a musty tinge.

It must have seen his light before the glow could catch it. A massive beast burst from the smog, ploughing into him.

The lamp fell to the ground with a resounding shatter, plunging him back into murky darkness.

Fear gripped his cold heart as the fog danced between his raised hairs. Death had never visited his thoughts on a mission before, now it loomed before him with huge dripping teeth.

He backed against the damp brickwork, breathing heavily in the tight mask. He waved his dimly glowing gun through the fog, hoping to give himself a vital moments warning.

---

---

Not a single creature was felled that night, they had run rings round the Order. They would not get away so easily again. From the snippets of hearsay Thaddeus picked up, once again waiting in the bustle of the Faulty Gear, a good 200 bodies had been found, limp and lifeless. Dead in the fog.

It hadn’t receded at dawn, the poison air suffocated city without respite. The city was rife with talk of creatures, foul beasts of the mist that consumed the life-force of a man, left him cold in the streets.

The Order had adapted their tactics, determining it was a mistake to send them out alone. The automatic bartender hissed to a stop next to him, prompting Thaddeus to select another drink. He found it almost incomprehensible that he had nearly finished the lamp-fluid whiskey, but glancing at the table, saw he had. Despite his stomach churning at the prospect of another drink, Thaddeus had to remain inconspicuous while he waited for his colleagues. With a reluctance he tried to hide, Thaddeus pressed the brass button for the laughably named “High Grade Whiskey”.

He made a point of nursing the paint stripper, letting the searing liquid touch his lips in the illusion of drinking.

Cordelia was the first to arrive. Her bustled skirt housed the engine for the Ladies Semi-Automatic Crowd Cleanser. The large padded cushion nestled at the base of her spine concealed the coiled barrel of the device, firing high pressured explosive pellets torn through the beasts.

Her pale skin had the translucent tinge of ammonia, her large watery eyes sparkled nightshade as she glanced around the crowded room.

It didn’t take long for her to find him.

“Edward and Reuben are at The Blackened Horse” she updated him as she squeezed on the leather seating, “The Institute want us to take the street from each end.”

Thaddeus nodded, aware of the burning gaze of the locals. His gun had yet to charge, but they were already drawing unwanted attention.

He picked Cordelia’s hand from her lap, holding it in his own in the appearance of romance. The dirty pub window, backed by dark fog, had become a blurry mirror. The pack would have started the hunt.

“Shall we?”

Thaddeus lifted her hand as he rose, eager to leave before the automatic bartender accosted them. Judging by the snickered sideways glances, the rumour mill was jumping to the intended conclusion; a sordid affair.

He slipped his hand around her wait, resting his hand on the detachable nozzle that dispelled the deadly rounds as he guided her through the crowd.

---

---

The thick smog smothered the street, swallowing every speck of light cast from the diamond glass windows. In two steps, blackness engulfed them. Thaddeus kept a light touch on Cordelia’s arm to avoid becoming separated in the soupy murk. He let the barrel of his propulsion gun lead the way.

“Can you see anything?” his voice muffled by his mask.

Cordelia preferred spike rimming goggles to his understated tinted glasses, she adjusted them, trying to squint through the miasma.

“Too thick to tell, let me…”

She fumbled in her bag, finding the miniature version of his lamp. The small hand held device resembled a perfume bottle, the crystal topped lid bursting into light as the mechanism inside ignited.

The cut crystal glass bulb exaggerated the brightness, creating a glowing orb of dense fog. A sharp whistle cut through the cloy silence. The pitch and volume were unmistakably Edwards.

A beast moved in the blackness between them.

The air thickened with each passing moment, pushing in on them. Cordelia gripped his arm; she had spotted the movement. She raised the soft glowing bottle before them, his glasses caught the tinge of reflection shifting between the clouded air.

The bright flash of discharge punctuated the fog; Thaddeus opened fire the moment the charging panel flickered from soft blue to green. It was impossible to tell if he hit it, though he aimed at the spot the darkness shifted.

It didn’t matter, as one fell, another would take its place. The Institute had already tracked near a thousand of the creatures since the onset of the fog.

They continued their advance, Cordelia gripping the nozzle of her Crowd Cleanser. It was a popular weapon with the higher class ladies, although hers had been fitted with the chemical bullets needed to break through the thick hide of the creatures.

A bluster of air rushed past them, rustling the frills adorning Cordelia’s hooped skirt.

The beasts were toying with them again.

Three sharp whistles rung through the cobbled street, Edward had three beasts in his sights. Urgency grasped inside Thaddeus as they hurried towards the sound.

Shots resounded in the darkness as two sets of weapons hammered into the onslaught. In the explosive light of impact, Thaddeus had a flashed view of the creatures. The pack had descended on his companions.

Reuben was slumped against a wall, his waistcoat stained a shining ruby red, his arms straining to keep his large gun trained on it’s target. Edward stood over him, emptying an automatic weapon into the encroaching beasts.

The small automatic hissed in a puff of steam with each shot. The toxic fog was condensing on the hot barrel, dripped down Edwards white-knuckled hand.

Cordelia let rip, pulling the nozzle from her hip, aiming as she squeezed her legs to ignite the engine.

The chemical rounds dazzled on impact, the beasts were lit from both sides, seemingly trapped.

Four of the slim creatures were visible between the rounds, their thick hides deflected the worst of each hit. Their dark eyes glinted, their scaled skin thrown into stark contrast by the tinted glasses.

The miasma surrounding them was dense enough to be felt, it slowed movement, dragging on each limb.

It was as though a ghostly hand stayed him arm as he turned to aim of the foremost creature.

The beast looked at him, big dark eyes that seemed to speak. A hardness bubbled inside Thaddeus; the prey never pitied the plight of the predator.

The recoil of each shot shook through him, yet the creatures remained undeterred, contorting, moving as one with the tugging fog.

The rest of the pack was pulling in, the writhing rhythm of dark scaled bodies seemed endless, shifting like currents in the air. They were tightening their grip on the wounded Reuben.

It was no use, there were too many. As one slunk into the shadows, finally injured, another took its place.

Cordelia dripped in a fine haze of sweat, it clung to her breathing mask, clouded her goggles. The bustled engine was getting hot. Cordelia would readily stand third degree burns before she backed down. The pain in her eyes was evidently, even though the fogged, tinted glasses.

“Del, want to switch to the handheld?” Thaddeus prompted her.

She carried a small ornate gun in her purse, the exposed mechanising, the gilded gears, it was a popular model.

Fury resonated from her in reply.

Thaddeus had known Cordelia for years, they had grown up in the Institute together. He knew better than to ask again.

The pack thickened around them The black slink of bodies became indistinguishable from the close press of sticky fog.

A swell of the beasts still came between them, separating the pairs with waves of dripping fangs.

“They got Reuben’s leg and stomach, he can’t move” Edward called, over the hiss and pressured pop of shots.

Thaddeus could no longer make out the two men in the dense soup, he could feel Cordelia next to him, the heat of her engine a soft glow in the cold cling of miasma.

The beasts were getting bolder, the stab of claw ripping through his flesh howled out of him.

“We can’t hold them off much longer” Thaddeus shouted, barely audible over the grind of Cordelia's overpowered Crowd Cleanser.

They all knew it, the beasts were overwhelming them, tearing through the fallen bodies heaped in the street in their endless assault.

“Go, you know you have to”

Reuben called out, his voice a pale thread in the cacophony. Death was suffocating them as the beasts lunged at every opening.

“We’re not leaving you!”

The hard determination of Cordelia’s tone cut through Thaddeus’s core. He realised, as Reuben did, the deadly miasma had seeped into the mans open wounds.

“We don’t all need to die tonight” Reuben called back, lacking conviction.

A cold body smashed into Thaddeus, knocking him, stumbling into Edward.

The filtering mechanism in their breathing masks was being to disintegrate. Thaddeus could smell the taint of chemical excretions, the foul taste sticking to the back of his throat.

“We’re outta time Del,”

She ignored him, shifting the dripping nozzle in a wide spray of hissing flashes.

Edward grabbed Thaddeus by the arm.

“I can smell it!”

Fear choked in the man’s voice. They both knew they only have minutes left to get out of the dense miasma before it began to slowly corrode their lungs.

“Del?”

Thaddeus’s audible desperation reached Cordelia, lost in her emotion.

“I’m not leaving him.”

She spoke with a calmness, a collected determination that wouldn’t see reason.

“Del! I’m not leaving you! Come on!”

“No Thaddeus, this is It for me”

“Del, you don’t have to do this, we need you - I need you, this is far from over”

“I know, that’s why I can’t do this. Go, live, fight another day. Me and Reu, we’ll hold them off between us”

“Please Dellie, please don’t do this for me”

The veins on Reuben's forearms throbbed with the effort of maintaining his aim, the pain was raw in his voice.

“Reu, I can’t chose another fight over another friend. Not again.”

Tears gathered under the rim of Thaddeus’s glasses. The dirty burning scent of the miasma was filling his lungs, he had to get inside.

Grabbing Cordelia’s arm, he tried to pull her with him.

“What about me? Come on Del!”

Thaddeus felt a sudden fury, a rage at her selfishness.

“You’ll be fine. Please Thad, you have to go now”

---

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4,000 people died in the five days of darkness, 4,000 lives consumed by the beasts of toxic fog. The poisonous miasma had sicken thousands more. Thaddeus never forgave himself for living through it.

Would she have left, if he had stayed, asked her to come back with reinforcements.

His dreams were plagued with the things he could have said, things that might have saved her.

Hmm, this was a very coincidental story, I decided to set it in Victorian London, and have the steampunk protagonist hunting creatures of the smog. I plucked the year 1852 out of the air, and a quick google, turns out it was the year of the worse smog London ever had. Maybe I knew that and forgot. Not having ventured into the steampunk genre much, I found a picture to inspire my main character. After writing the story, and looking up more about the user who shared it, I discovered he shared the same surname as the character he inspired. I am not sure how much I actually like this story, I can see places I would like to work on, especially dialogue wise, but the deadline approaches , so here we have it.

This is my entry to @neoxian Daring and Intrepid Steampunk writing contest! which has been a great chance to try something different. Ok, well a bit different ;)

Photo Credit by Blackhart who has short films as well as brilliant photography on his website.