He Needs A Lot Of Help

Pump was waiting for them. Among the dusty shelves, running his eyes over the eclectic collection of old and new automaton parts as if he were actually interested in them. Richard’s blood ran cold at the sight, his hand moving to the gun still snugly in its holster.

He would have drawn and fired then, but Pump spoke.

“An interesting collection, but ultimately little of substance. Just enough to fool the people with no eye for such things. Your real horde is elsewhere, is it not?”

He looked up then, his crimson gaze swept the room and once more Richard felt that palpable sense of malevolence. Bennie felt it too. He stiffened.

“You,” he said, “are not normal.”

“Indeed so,” the giant boomed. “I am Pump. I am sure you’ve been told about me.”

Pump’s appearance had changed since Richard saw him last. The Conquerors he’d left him with had done a number on him and though the effort had been made to repair his false skin, it was obvious that there had not been enough material. It was stitched and ragged, hanging loose in places and pressed far too tightly in others. He looked like a corpse which had crawled out of its grave.

Yet, someone had still bothered to find him a fine, high-class suit. The sort that costs thousands. Richard had no idea where they had found it or how they had gotten one that fit him. it had to be custom-made! How much money had they blown just to put this monster in a suit? And why? What did it matter? It wasn’t even like Pump cared!

It was such a disquieting sight. Skin sallow like a revenant, red burning eyes, and a suit that looked like it had been tailored by the finest experts in the craft.

Richard realised it made him look like a sort of demon. A child’s half-conceived idea of what a devil might look like. A creature that had crawled its way up from hell to entrap the souls of the living.

But Pump was not a devil. He was a monster, yes, but a mortal one. Made of steel and bronze rather than flesh. But even metal could fail.

“You have only one chance,” Richard spoke softly and low, his tone heavy with a coldness and a fury that he had very rarely known. “If you tell me where Kara is right now then-”

“Then you won’t kill me? Save the threats, Mister Gearheart. We both know the advantage here is mine. Consider it. A small, enclosed space. Your weapon is in its holster - no, don’t draw it, please. I don’t want to end things so soon - and yes, there are shelves between me and you. But do you believe even for a moment that I could not go right through? If you attack me, you die. If you draw your weapon, I can be across this space before you have the chance to aim it. You die. And if you try to run, the only exit is to my back. You know I will not let you through.”

The automaton turned to face them properly. Despite the state of his skin, his movements were fluid and smooth. Not a trance of internal damage. Any scars from their last meeting were surface only.

“I do think,” Pump said slowly, “that the one making threats should be me.”

Richard’s face paled. Pump had a point and they both knew it. A cold sweat broke across his face. He could draw and fire his cannon in an instant, but in that time, Pump would close the distance. Even if Richard got his shot off, even if it hit, would one round be enough to drop the giant?

Unlikely.

He grimaced.

“I see you understand your position,” Mister Pump said. “Now here is where I offer you the solution. Isabel requests your presence. If you come with me, I will take you to it. But of course, I will have to render you unable to harm her first. If you do not resist I promise a minimum of pain.”

“You know, that sounds really interesting,” Richard felt Bennie’s mechanical hand close around his shoulder. He was **** backwards, surprised by the sheer strength that his friend possessed.

“Really fascinating,” Bennie went on. “Such a good deal. How about I offer you one of my own? Why don’t you march downstairs to my forge, get it nice and hot and then throw yourself in? You’re a flawed creation of a third-rate machinist and as far as I’m concerned, you have no right to be demanding anything. You wasted pile of steam and wires.”

For an instant, even Richard was surprised. He turned to Bennie with wide eyes, the dark-skinned man guiding them both backwards towards the hall that led to the workshop. Pump said nothing. His eyes flickered.

Then he almost seemed to sigh.

“A demonstration, then. Gearheart’s presence was requested. His survival is desirable. Yours is not.”

And then Pump moved. He kicked off, his massive body flashing from stillness to motion with a speed that should have been impossible and would have been for anything not made of steel. Richard’s hand whipped out his gun, but Pump’s predictions were all too true. By the time he drew it and fired, Bennie would be dead.

But Bennie had moved fast as well, and he had less space to cover. The very instant they were both inside the lip of the hall, he slammed his fist into a section that looked the same as any other. Except this section broke, a hail of pottery shards filled the air as Bennie’s mechanical hand smashed into the hidden button.

And a massive, metal gate slammed into place between them and the shop. Pump hit it hard and it rattled, wailing like the damned themselves. But it held. The damn thing looked like a ship’s bulkhead door! Even Pump could not easily **** passage.

“Bennie, what the hell?”

“I keep telling you! I have tricks of my own! Do you think I’d set such an important workshop in some random shop? Of course I have ways to protect it! That gate should hold for hours at least.”

The metal screeched then. Bennie winced and Richard covered his ears. Sparks were flying, Pump’s fists batterin the other side. Each blow was like the strike of a hammer if the hammer was wielded by a giant who didn’t need to stop, breathe or rest his muscles. Soon enough, the whole gate began to ring like a bell. The blows came so fast that they could no longer even be differentiated beyond being an endless stream of strikes.

Richard realised the corridor was shaking.

“You sure it’ll last for hours?” His question was dry. The look in Bennie’s eyes more than enough of an answer.

“Back to the workshop!” Bennie hissed. “That thing is coming through!”

Half-running, they made their way back to the shadowed room full of slumbering machines. Richard’s eyes were wide, and his heart hammered. There was another fight coming and they needed every advantage they could get.

“What is that thing?” Bennie asked. “That speed and power! I ain’t never seen that before!”

“I told you! It’s Pump! Kara made him and then Isabel made him better. Now what else do you have? Bennie, don’t tell me that was it! Can you call back your insects?”

“They won’t stand a chance,” Bennie said. “They’re not combat-ready! The steam assembly! They’d burn out in minutes. The only one who can fight is….well…”

Bennie shrugged.

“One extra helper isn’t going to mean much against that thing.”

“Maybe not,” Richard rounded on him. “But it’s something! Are you gonna give up man? The hell happened to the soldier I used to know?”

Bennie blinked, the look of shock faded from his face.

“You’re right! We’re not done yet! He took me by surprise is all, but I didn’t come so far just to get torn apart by some stupid golem who ain’t even after me! I have just the trick. A weapon that’ll stop him cold. Been working on it for a while.”

“That’s good,” Richard said.”Real good. Tell me though. What you said before. About the armour. One in ten?”

“Yeah, one in ten.”

“Well,” Richard grimaced. “I’ve faced worse odds.”