| From: Mr. Zebulon Pike, Deadwood, Dakota Territory To: Mrs. Hannelore West, Kingsport, Mass. September 1879
Cherished Sister,
I have, of late, been negligent in my duty to keep you informed of my activities here on the frontier and, I admit with some reluctance, that I have been somewhat depressed of late. I am a scientist and even though I have been encountering nearly inexplicable wonders; ancient spirits that animate the corpses of the dead, conglomerate constructs of flesh and bone and, of course, Dr. Hellstromme's giant iron mechanical men, each new wonder has been met, not with scientific inquiry and experimentation but with explosives and copious amounts of gunfire.
Today, however, is a new day. I have slipped the shackles of conventional science and stepped into an entirely new world.
I have already related to you of our banishment from the Sioux Nations in spite of our aid in suppressing murderous demon-possessed monstrosities and our subsequent encounters with Hellstromme's automatons in the Montana Territory. How frustrated I had been for in each encounter the devices, instead of breaking down when sufficient damage was applied, would detonate, destroying themselves so completely as to offer no meaningful data as to their construction. But, through the summer I formulated a theory of antipodal magnotomic ionization which I hoped would prove capable of capturing one of these machines.
The past several weeks have been divided between fleeing Hellstromme's mercenaries and, lacking proper tools and materials, attempting to construct the weapon that would finally capture one of the succession of infernal machines he has sent against us. Finally returning to Deadwood and my laboratory, I was able to complete my device, and not a moment too soon.
Several days ago, fliers were circulated throughout the town not only offering significant sums of money for our capture and delivery to the hands of Dr. Darius Hellstromme but warning dire retribution on any who would harbor us. Several of Hellstromme's men were about the town, agitating the residents and even their execution, to use an indelicate but otherwise accurate term, by Messrs. Tobin, Pace, Bongiovi and Sombrero, failed to allay fears. Many of the townspeople took flight to nearby Lead, Central City or even as far as Bismark. Our neighbors in China Alley simply fled to the hills.
We had expected at least several days with which to prepare but the assault began the next morning. And assault it was. A score of gunmen and one of Hellstromme's mechanical men of war brazenly striding down the main street with rockets and gattling guns blazing. Mr. Tobin, with his unearthly ability to walk without harm through the most whithering fire, went out to engage them on their own terms while the rest of us held back, our vantage from the roof and attic of the House of Pancakes.
The advance seemed to me overly showy and ineffective and, looking behind, beyond the tents of China Alley and up the hill, came another automaton. It was smaller, perhaps the size of a bear, but it was taking a more stealthy approach. The approach was, however, revealed and I went downstairs to confront the machine in the back yard. I placed my secret weapon, a glass bottle atop a short rocket tube, on the end of the LeMat pistol you gave me.
I stepped out into the yard in an attempt to get a clear shot but the beast raised it's arm and launched a rocket of its own, forcing me to take cover again in the back hall. I stepped out again and, standing in full view, took my shot, closing my eyes for a moment to shield them from the backblast of my rocket's propulsion.
It was superlative! Unfolding before me as some slowed down kinetograph, opposing rockets passed in flight; his passing dramatically over my shoulder and mine smashing him squarely in the chest plate. The glass of the bottle shattered and the finely shredded iron filings inside spread into a glittering cloud, pushed apart by identical magnetic charges. Yet, in free air, such ionization cannot long endure. Polarity returned to the countless particulates and, finding a nearby ferrous mass, contracted as if under intelligent command.
At that moment, time seemed to snap back into focus and I needed to again dive for cover as the machine began firing it's gattling at me. I knew, however, that the millions of sharp iron fragments were relentlessly working their way into the delicate inner workings, fouling fine toothed gears and interrupting electric circuits. The machine smashed through the door and advanced on me in the hallway, slowed by the narrow confines and the metal tearing at its insides. I had a second projectile and instead of launching it with its rocket, I threw it at the automaton's head. Indoors, the reaction was even more swift and I could now hear the crying of dying mechanisms.
It reached out with it's hand and as it ground to a halt, I began to laugh. It was if I could see through it's think iron plates and witness the filings digging grooves into fine brass clockwork, fowling chains and pistons, killing it from the inside out. My comrades, having dispatched the other automaton and either killing or setting to flight its infantry support, heard my laughter from out in the street and rushed to my aid, mistaking it for tortured cries of pain. They later told me it disturbed them thoroughly.
I am sitting now in the House of Pancakes, making sure the automaton remains inert while the others obtain for me blocks, tackle and a cart to move it to where I can begin the process of dissection. If it had not destroyed my lab, I would . . .
My lab. . . The handbills. . . The wanted posters that Hellstromme's men distributed in Deadwood to foment panic in advance of their attacks. My face was not among them. . . The frontal assault. . . The stealthy flanking approach. . . When I took cover in here, the automaton launched its missiles at my workshop rather than at me. It pursued me inside rather than firing its gattling. . . It was me. . . It was me. . . Hellstromme is after me. . .
Absolutely magnificent!
I have. . . I have an arch-nemesis!
Z
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