City of Gears

CHAPTER ONE

There are different parts of town. The differences make themselves known based on who you are, where you are, and sometimes the time of day or night. Some parts of town are lovely, with bright colors during the day and the smell of flowers. At night, they are serene and silent, broken only by the occasional sound of horses' hooves clomping on the ground or by the laughter from warm, brightly lit homes. Of course, in that same part of town, other homes change at night. Not all are as bright as they appear on the outside.

Still, other parts of town are bustling during the day and night. They are packed with people, carts, and animals. There, you might encounter pickpockets or risk being trampled if you are not careful. But you also might find a new dress or suit, fruits, and meats. You might find friends at the pub. At night, you might think twice about a late-night stroll if it is too dark.

Then there are the other parts of town. The ones that during the day are teeming and busy but at night are silent save for the coughs of the sick lying in alleys and the moans of the occasional drunk. But eventually, at some point in the night, even those sounds stop. They stop because sound is a liability. It is enticing for those who might be cruel by nature or drink or some other discontentment in life. They hunt, and sound draws them like a candle.

It was one of these parts of town that Lucinda found herself in. It was late, and the air had a chill to it. The air brushed across her face and chest, pulling heat from her body. With the air came the smell of the street. It bit at Lucinda's nose, clawing its way into her head where she knew it would linger for some time. It was the perfume of garbage piled in front of doors for days or weeks on end, of excrement and urine tossed out of the windows along with anything else that came out of the inhabitants' bodies. There was dirt and horse manure, along with the smell of death. On the latter, she didn't know if it was from an animal whose body someone had discarded in one of the alleys or that of a human. Both were possible.

She glanced up, looking for the sky, but only found a sliver of it. The windows above her were dark. The buildings grew from the ground like boxes haphazardly stacked on top of one another. As the floors were built, they each protruded over the street further than the one below it. After ten or twelve stories, the length of a person only separated the gap between buildings on each side of the street.

In this, the slum looked like a twisted version of the inside of a cathedral, but one whose purpose was not to impart a sense of wonder of whatever god the cathedral was built to honor. This cathedral was the spiritual embodiment of filth and poverty. Lines connected the windows from one side of the street to the other so that the people could hang out their laundry to dry. The clean cloth could absorb the scent of the area and allow it to infest the homes of those who lived there.

Lucinda brought her gaze back to the street. In the shade of the buildings, it would be almost dark in the day and with little to no rain making it between the buildings, there was nothing to wash the filth away. She walked slowly, her footsteps making no sound as she trod. The street was cobbled but covered in waste that had been crushed to the point of becoming dirt.

Her eyes swept around the darkness, looking at the places between buildings where the shadows were as thick as ink. No light escaped from them. In this part of town, mothers told their children to fear the dark or the shadows because that is exactly what you needed to fear. Well, not so much the shadows themselves but what was in them. And what if you spent too much time in them? Could the shadows twist your soul like they had so many, and if so, what might you become?

The breeze brushed against her again, stealing away the heat. She'd trade the scent for the cool air. Her dress was warm and the fabric, while silky, felt as though it didn't want to move. It seemed afraid of the dark street. It was right to be afraid. This was not the part of town, nor the time of night, where a pretty young woman should be walking alone. Especially not if that pretty young woman was dressed a little too elegantly for this area. The cream-colored dress stood out like a beacon amidst the deep blues and blacks of the street. The dress was long, falling just above her feet so it wouldn't brush against the ground. The sleeves were long too, reaching almost to her elbows. Slender hands were covered in lightly padded gloves that extended up her arms and under the sleeves of the dress. Sable hair that fell just past her jaw framed a delicate face with red lips and a petite nose. Her eyes were bright despite the darkness, one gray and the other lavender. Those eyes were looking around, aware that they did not belong there.

Lucinda knew she was attractive. She was lean but not hard, her posture was good, and her face and body were perfectly symmetrical. Her skin was free of blemishes and glowed with health. She didn’t look like an upper-class woman but perhaps middle or upper-middle class. A novelty in this area, to say the least, and a tempting target for those who called the shadows home. Her eyes glanced at the shadows, trying to see into them, but she couldn’t. If something were in them, they could see her but not the other way around. She didn’t care for that. But perhaps it was good. It made her uneasy, and that unease would show on her face. The hunters would be out tonight.

They’d started hunting a few weeks after the local brothels closed due to a venereal disease ripping its way through staff and customers. The island had shut it down before it overwhelmed the hospitals and hurt local industry. These streets were rough in the day with theft and assault, but at night turned to rape and murder. It wasn’t new. If the problem got out of hand, the constables would make a few examples, and the area would calm down for a bit. But that took a while, and it had to bother the right people. When the brothel closed, it wasn’t a surprise when crime went up. Apparently, there had been rumors of a group of men who preyed on young women. They’d have their way with them and leave them lying in the filth of the tight alleys between the buildings. The constables did nothing.

Why would they? The women in this area were poor and disposable.

Teach them right for being out, they’d say or, She was asking for it.

Lucinda found it unlikely that the women were asking for anything, nor did she find it likely that it served them right, but the people of the slum were not her problem. Of course, that had changed. The men had lost the taste for catch and release. They’d moved to murdering their victims when they were done with their fun. People would find strangled or stabbed girls in the alleys. This was still not new. Murder in the slums happened. The constables said that they’d look into it but didn’t. So long as it kept to the slums, the group would go unchecked.

They targeted poor and unconnected victims who did not live long enough to ID their assailants. One night the previous week, some body snatchers in the area found a woman left for dead as they made their way to the cemetery that night. She was covered in the filth of the alley when they found her. They found themselves with an opportunity for an easy night’s work. After all, who was going to miss another street rat?

They’d taken the body to the Anatomy Academy as they would have done with the corpses they dug up that night. They’d sold it to the academy for them to allow their students to dissect. The academy paid for the girl, not asking any questions. The problem arose when two of the students moved her to the dissection room for the next day. For the girl, it turned out, was not so dead, and when she woke it also turned out that she was not so poor and unconnected. She’d passed after a few days from an infection, but not before she’d given her account of what had happened. That led to some people talking to other people, which led to someone cashing in a favor which led to Lucinda in her fine dress this evening.

The best hunters appeared as prey. This allowed the real prey to do the work. Thus, Lucinda walked, appearing unsure and frightened. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. A knife. She continued walking past the man with the knife, hidden in the shadows. She slowed to a stop and looked around. To his credit, she didn't hear him approach. She felt the cold of a blade against her throat, and her nostrils filled with the man’s hot, rank breath. She stiffened. Hunter or prey, it wasn't comfortable having a knife held to your neck. She lifted her hands in the air.

Take what you want, she said in a shaky voice.

An arm came around her waist, and she heard him take in a deep breath through his nose.

I will. No screams, ok? he said softly.

She didn't respond, and he began to move, guiding her with pressure on the knife and pulling her waist. He led her off the street and down a narrow one that connected to the main street. Here she could see the sky, the floors of the buildings didn't expand so much in the small space. They came to a rough wooden door. He took his hand from her waist but left the knife. He slid the door open and led her inside, closing it behind them. His arm was around her waist again. He dragged the knife lightly up her neck to her chin, lifting it up and to the side. He leaned down, smelling her hair again. It gave her the creeps, and she felt her skin crawl.

He whispered into her ear, I think my friends and I are going to enjoy getting acquainted with you, he kissed her neck down to where her dress started. She thought he was going to pull off the dress and expose her shoulders. As his lips touched her, she wanted to fight back and get him off her, but not yet. She shifted and whimpered.

Please don't hurt me, she said, her voice thick.

He chuckled softly, Oh, we're gonna hurt you.

He pushed her forward, deeper into the room. It was a large room, with the floor covered in straw and wood benches scattered here and there. At the far end of the room, there was light. As they stepped into the light, she noticed three other men. She couldn't make out the appearance of the man holding her, but she could clearly see the others. Two of them were tall and skinny, with hair so dark blue that it almost appeared black under the light. As they turned to face her, she noticed their stubble-covered faces and hardened brown eyes. Their noses looked identical, suggesting they were brothers only a few years apart in age.

Your mothers would be so proud that her babies are rapist murderers, she thought to herself.

The last man was of average height, with green hair and eyes. He was a little pudgy-looking, and his nose looked to have been broken multiple times before. All of the men looked at her and smiled.

Lookie what we have here, Pudgy said. I didn't think we'd get two tonight. Max is with the other, but I like this one better.

Pudgy's grin revealed yellowing, crooked teeth. So there was another girl here, she realized. Her eyes scanned the room, as if searching for a means of escape, but deep down, she wasn't seeking an escape. She had identified four of the individuals the woman had described, but who was the fifth? It had to be whoever Max was, but she needed confirmation.

When she had first heard about what was happening in this place, she had wondered if the constables were involved. Perhaps they were being bribed to turn a blind eye. It wouldn't be unheard of. Those with a taste for darker deeds with enough money could get away with anything in the slums. However, considering what she was witnessing now, that seemed less likely. It appeared that the local law enforcement simply didn't care.

Go get Max, he'll want this one instead. We can save the other girl for later or tomorrow, Green hair instructed one of the brothers.

One of the brothers went to a door at the back of the room and banged on it, shouting for Max to come out.

Best part about this place, the man behind her said, no one can hear anything that happens here. You can moan as loud as you like, isn't that great?

The man with green hair approached her and ran his hands up her hips and waist, gazing at her chest. She wasn't prudish and had no issues showing plenty of skin, but she had to admit that the corset of the dress was a little much. It exposed much more of her chest than she would usually prefer, but that was by design, wasn’t it?

The man with green hair looked down at her and grinned. These look nice, don't they? Mind if I take a peek? He reached towards the front of her dress. This was unfortunate. She had three things she wanted right now. The first was for the man behind her to move the knife. Fast and strong, she was, but bleed out she could. Next, she really needed to confirm the identity of the fifth man before the man with green hair went any further. Lastly, she hoped the dress would hold up. She didn't plan on wearing it again, but if these jackasses ripped it apart, she would have to either return home covered in whatever filthy cloth she could find or risk being seen in some state of undress. She noticed a tarp on the ground and thought she could use it as a makeshift cover, but then reconsidered, realizing it was late and chances were that no one would see her if she walked home as she was. No, that's a terrible idea, I’m not walking home half-naked, she thought.

Luckily, the dress was sewn with reinforced stitching. She shifted and struggled against the man with the knife.

Hold her! Green growled.

The man behind her had been holding the knife with his left hand. He raised his right hand, took the blade, and placed it against her neck once again. With his left arm, he looped her left arm and pulled it behind her back. Then, he tucked the knife into his belt and used his right hand to pull her right arm behind her. He held both her arms with his left. This was good and bad. Good, because the knife was no longer against her neck, but bad because the gloves had minimal padding. He extended his right hand, grabbed her hair, and yanked her head back. She gasped at the sudden movement.

That's better, Green said, satisfied.

The man behind her was looking down her neck and body. She felt his beard brush against her ear and neck. Green's hands were at the front of her dress, pulling, trying to rip the fabric. She heard a pop telling her that he was accomplishing his goal. She struggled a bit and begged.

Please! No, no, please don't, please stop! she said.

The man behind her spoke into her ear, I've never had one like you before, I don't think I'll be able to stop by morning.

One of the brothers was coming back from the door he'd been pounding on, calling for Max. He watched Green with greedy eyes. Apparently, they weren't waiting for Max. The door opened, and a thick muscular man walked out. He was tall, with brown hair and a mustache, his arms were bare, showing muscle. He didn't have pants on.

What is it? he barked, She's finally waking up, and I was just about to start in.

He looked at Lucinda, and his expression changed from irritation to understanding. He smiled.

Never mind, he said, taking her in. He paused. I feel like I've seen this one.

So the constables were involved.

At last, her three requirements were met. She stopped trembling and sobbing, her body became rather still, and she looked at Max calmly, Good evening, Inspector, she said conversationally.

Green looked confused, and emotions began to play on the inspector's face. The man holding her hair let go as confusion set in. That was nice of him. She looked at Green, who was so close to her. She snapped her head forward, tilting her whole body. Her forehead slammed into Green's nose, breaking it. He started to drop. The man behind her had been pulled forward with her, and she snapped her head again, but this time back, hitting the man behind her hard in the mouth. She felt pain as a tooth or something bit into her. His arms went slack, and time slowed.

She brought her arms from behind her, twisted slightly, and brought the palm of her right hand to one of the brothers' noses, hitting him hard. His head wrenched back, the bones in the front of his face cracking. She grabbed the middle finger of the glove on her right hand with her left and swung her right arm towards the other brother. As she moved her arm, the glove came free, revealing not the pristine unblemished flesh of her face and body, but metal. The glove wasn't for the cold but rather to hide her mechanical arms. She backhanded the other brother hard. The eye socket broke and crunched.

Green was back up and had a club. He brought it high in the air to hit her. Her left hand grabbed his wrist. He screamed as the wrist was crushed in her iron grip. Max was much brighter than the others. He hadn't gone for weapons but was moving to leave, trying to run away and hide. She smiled and pivoted, holding Green. He came forward, and she grabbed the back of his vest and swung. As he flew, he closed the space between her and Max. Green hit one of Max's legs, the one that had Max's weight at the moment. The knee buckled, and he fell.

She saw a belt on the floor. Probably Max's. She picked it up and walked to the two living men. Both were groaning. Green was lying face down, holding his arm. She came up behind him and quickly broke his neck. Max was trying to back away from her. She walked a couple of steps toward him, holding the belt.

Don't be dumb, girl, you know what I am, he panted.

I do, she said, a rapist and murderer. Do you think they'll hang you?

I'm an Inspector, you bitch! He said, his teeth gritted.

She laughed, And I'm a Techfly. Tell me, who is higher up the food chain?

He stammered, If you kill me, there will be hell to pay, even for you, he threatened, and I know people. People who owe me favors and people who I know things about.

She smiled. He wasn't lying. He had gotten this job not by being good at what he did for the public, but by being good at what he did for individuals. She had no doubt that he knew things about people.

So tell me, those people, do you think they are going to let you spill the beans on them? she asked, and the constables, do you think they want a scandal? You're right, killing you would raise hell for me. But we both know you aren't living through the night.

He changed tack, But if you take me in, think of what and who I will give you. You have no idea what goes on, on this island, out of the reach of the law.

She shook her head, I have no doubt. I bet you could give me some really juicy stuff. But alas, she sighed, not my thing. I'm not into law enforcement.

He looked confused, Bu-but you’re here tonight...

She nodded again, Yup, I'm here tonight.

She didn't explain why she was there; she knocked him out and bound his arms behind him. There was a sound from the room that Max had been in, and Lucinda remembered that he said something about starting on someone. She went to the room and found a young woman lying in a bed, her hands and feet tied to the corners. She looked woozy. From what Lucinda could see, none of the men had started in on her yet, past knocking her out. In a way, that was good for this woman.

Lucinda untied her. She looked at Lucinda, confused, holding her head. Lucinda sat next to her on the bed and waited.

You're safe now, she said, and the woman looked at her.

All at once, she seemed to remember where she was. Fear crossed her face, but before she could speak, Lucinda said, They are not going to hurt you.

She placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. Reflexively, the woman jerked away from the cold touch and looked at Lucinda's metal hand and then back at her face, You're a Techfly?

Lucinda smiled, Yes, I am. My name is Lucinda. Come and find me tomorrow, and we can talk. Right now, I need to get the constables over here, and I don't want you here.

Why? she asked, confused.

Should Lucinda explain that this woman would be viewed as disposable, just like the others? But a disposable person that could lead to the constables having a scandal on their hands? No. This woman had seen enough danger for the night. The law would know nothing of her and could not silence her. Lucinda told her that she’d explain later and made sure she was out of sight before calling up to a part between the buildings. A head poked out.

Is it done? a voice said.

Yeah. Get the authorities, Lucinda said.

Right.

There was a flap of wings, and Lucinda walked back into the room that opened to the little dirty street, which connected to the large dirty street that reeked of slum, to wait for the constables to arrive. Her debt was paid, and in its place, the constables would owe her for her discretion. And the world was a bit less evil. Not a bad night.

CHAPTER TWO

The primary scent was that of wood. Not freshly cut or sanded, but rather old and worn, with many nicks and grooves obtained over years of use. Stains that were as much a part of the character of the wood as the grain. There were other smells too: the scent of paper and leather, along with a hint of brandy. The scent of oil from the lamp and the smell of the stone walls. Each scent added to the story of the room, all woven together by the smell of sweat and poor air circulation. Lucinda tried to ignore the scents of the lurid men that still clung to her body, even though their owners were no longer alive.

She sat in a not uncomfortable chair in a windowless office that belonged to one of the Constabulary's Superintendents. The building was on the second tier of the island, near the ramp of land that led to the top tier. Lucinda shifted in the chair, the heat of the dress as oppressive as it had been in the slums, but without the distraction of finding killers to take her mind off it. She was alone for the moment. There had been a bit of a scene shortly after she had sat down with Superintendent Arthur Sheppard.

The evening had been looking like it was coming to an end. She had waited in the slums for the Constables to show up and haul their comrade Max Dolan to the Constabulary. To the Constables' credit, it hadn't taken too long, and they didn't have many questions; they had all been unusually friendly to her. She had joined them on the paddy wagon back to the Constabulary. There had been a somewhat reasonable chance of seeing her bed before she saw the sun. On the way, Lucinda had commandeered one of the Constables' notepads and a pen to write out the events of the evening. Upon arrival, she met with Sheppard, who read her report, and as he opened his mouth to start in on whatever filth he had planned, there had been a commotion.

Somehow, Max had managed to kill himself, or so she and Sheppard had been told. The Superintendent hadn't bothered to hide his expression of relief at the news. They’d gone to see the scene, and Sheppard had eventually told her that a jail cell with a dead man was no place for a young lady. She had been on the verge of objecting when a pointed glance from the Superintendent had brought her up short. Her rather revealing dress still had a rip from where the morons in the slums had tried to rip it off.

I guess you do need to concentrate when covering up evidence, she commented to herself and the empty office. As she thought more, she decided that maybe the Constables that evening hadn't just been nice guys who wanted to build a working relationship with the Techfly by giving her a lift to the Constabulary.

So she sat waiting with nothing to do but sense the sun's inevitable rise, with it removing all reasonable argument for sleeping until one in the afternoon. She was frustrated. It wasn't the sun's fault her evening wasn't going well, nor was it the dress's fault that Techfly were always hot. She was having a hard time justifying being upset with the Constables for killing Max. He not only had it coming, but it would have been a nightmare to deal with the fallout if it had come out into the public eye. So she waited, arguing with herself that going home would be unproductive.

The door opened, and a man in his early fifties entered the room. His purple hair was thinning. The Superintendent had the build of a man who no longer tackled the bad guys, but who once had. There was a hardness to his neck that spoke of a man who could still beat the hell out of whoever he wanted. He sat in the chair opposite her, across the old wooden desk, stained and marked by the countless men who had occupied this office before Superintendent Sheppard.

His purple eyes were alert as they held her gaze, calculating. That gaze shifted down her body, not in a move of lust or to make her uncomfortable, but like a predator sizing up another predator. What was she to him? She could almost hear his mind wondering. Was she a threat? Maybe. Was she going to be an issue? Probably. His gaze did not waver as it slid across her metal arms, telling her that he was used to being around Techfly. He was high enough ranking in society that it wasn't a surprise for him to see her. His gaze went to her dress, lingering.

Why were you on the fourth tier tonight? he asked, his deep voice holding an edge. He didn't look her in the eye; his gaze was fixed on her body.

Was this how he intended to make the first move? Try to make her feel uncomfortable, see if he could knock her off her game? She weighed her options. She could call him out, tell him her eyes were higher. That might tell him not to mess with her, or maybe make him think he'd gotten to her. She could be flirtatious. But that posed its own risks, didn't it? She settled on a neutral tone, hoping he didn't shift his gaze, that he was in on this tactic for the long haul. She had skin in the game on this one, and out of practice tackling bad guys the Superintendent may have been, but reading people's faces? That he'd be excellent at. Her chest thankfully didn't show emotions like her face did. Enjoy the view, Superintendent, she thought.

I was hunting for a group of raping, murdering men, she said honestly.

His gaze shifted to her face. Maybe that comment had come off too confident? It didn't matter; he knew his ploy hadn't worked. She wondered what direction he'd head now.

Why? he demanded, trying to use a tone she suspected made the men under him quaver. Asshole. That was going to be the direction.

A thank you would suffice, she countered. It was way too late at night for her to be dealing with someone who wanted to be in a pissing match.

Strictly speaking, the Constables and Techfly got along just fine. The Techfly had much more power but didn't generally concern themselves with the goings-on of the island. The Constables had no authority as soon as the island ended and the sky began. Still, she'd always felt tension between the groups. In so many ways they were supposed to be on the same team, but...

Thank you? For what? Killing a group of men and hauling in one of our Inspectors? he said.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was trying to get information from her, irritate her,