Another week, another flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig's terribleminds. This week's challenge was to mash up two different sub-genres and see what happens. I chose Man Adventures and Steampunk, and what emerged was an uber pulp version Heart of Darkness, which just so happens to be one of my favorite novels so I'm pretty okay with the result. As always, feel free to leave any comments you have and I hope you enjoy.
The sweltering thick muck of jungle air bore down on Sgt Killman and seemed to be getting only worse and worse even after he’d stripped down to just an undershirt and army khaki pants. He wadded thigh deep through the leech infested river with his arms above his head clutching his custom made repeating rifle in an effort to keep it mostly dry. His muscled torso shone with sweat, blood and those water droplets from the Congo river that clung to his body with a ferocity only matched by his own passionate commitment to his current mission.
"I say, I do hope Von Kurtz's fortress is close by," his companion Watkins called out from behind. The old man carried a portable gatling gun on his back and was still able to keep pace with the Sergeant.
Killman hoped for this as well, especially for Watkins sake. The old veteran had ably served the British Empire for far longer than any other man he could name, and was still Killman’s equal on the battlefield when his experience and tenacity were taken into account. But time had caught up with Watkins, as it did for all men, and just last fall he’d had to replace his heart with a copper valve pumper. The doctors and scientist of the Technopolist Union insisted that the valve was capable of withstanding the most extreme climates without malfunction though Killman, a veteran of the campaigns in Afghanistan and Burma, remained skeptical. He had seen the mechanickal ‘wonders’ that the Empire had brought to bear, the tank-walkers and the servo-soldiers and all the rest, sputter and stall at the worst of times despite assurances by those self-same technocrats. Still though, in spite of Killman’s reservations, Watkins had insisted on accompanying him on this jungle trek and the Sergeant knew his old friend too well to try arguing with him.
“No worries. Is not far,"their native guide assured them. They hadn't gotten his real name before they left, and probably couldn't pronounce it even if they had, so like the other Europeans stationed in the New Belgian Congo they had just taken to addressing him as Tall-Lean for his corresponding appearance. They’d heard he was the best tracker and hunter around, and in the few days of travel he’d been essential in navigating them through this toughest and most dangerous region on earth. In Watkins and Killman’s eyes he had more than lived up to his reputation and they valued his presence greatly despite his limited proficiency with the English language or any other civilized tongue known to them.
Killman’s heart beat quickly in his chest as he realized that, after weeks of travel and preparation he would soon be reaching the destination. He remembered back to when he’d first heard the news, to the day when a submersible had abruptly surfaced on the shores of his deserted island retreat and a prim and proper captain of the British Navy had emerged. Before Killman could recover from his shock and properly berate and beat the man for disrupting his hard earned retirement the captain handed him an envelope with the Royal Seal upon it. Inside was a letter that bore the startling news of the return of his arch-nemesis Baron Viktor Von Kurtz, master of hypnosis and mad genius extraordinaire. The world had long thought Von Kurtz was dead, but apparently not even hell’s infernal fires were enough to contain the monster’s twisted evil and insanity it seemed.
Even more shocking was the news that Von Kurtz had made a brazen attack on the German Confederacy’s capital of Berlin with an army of jet pack wearing servo-soldiers. During the assault the Baron had kidnapped the Kaiser’s daughter Princess Sophia and had spirited her away on his gyro-zepplin. The German princess was the betrothed of the future King Edward VII and their wedding was meant to seal the alliance between the Empire and the Confederacy to stand against the threat of the expansionist Russian Commissariat. With her abduction though, such an alliance was now in jeopardy, and the Russians were no doubt marshalling their armies in the East to launch a pre-emptive strike while the western powers were still divided.
Sergeant Killman knew even before he finished the letter what his mission was to be. The Technopolist Union had used their network of telescopes and orbiting satellite mirrors to track the Baron to a jungle fortress in the New Belgian Congo. The fortress was garrisoned with an army of servo-soldiers making any direct assault upon it difficult to say the least and would also endanger the princess’s well-being. Killman knew that the only way to get her back was for a team of commandos to infiltrate to the Baron’s fortress, retrieve the princess and exterminate Von Kurtz with extreme prejudice, which was exactly what he was ordered to do. He also knew that he was the best man for the job. The letter ended with signatures from the God-Empress Victoria, the Kaiser Wilhelm II and even the Emperor Norton I of America.
Killman’s reverie was broken when he noticed that the jungle had gone suspiciously quiet, as an eerie silence descended around them. Watkins had noticed as well, and he readied his gatling gun at the hip while the three of them made their way out of the water and onto the riverbank. The silence was broken when a metallic rod burst up from the river and lightning began streaking around it. The lightning shot out in an arc and slammed into Tall-Lean, vaulting him backwards. A quick look at the native’s burnt chest showed that he was dead. Watkins and Killman swirled around and fired at the rod, tearing it apart with a hail of bullets.
A metallic screech filled the air and two ducked for cover as a giant metal claw crashed in the exact same spot they’d been standing. They looked up to see the all too familiar face of Baron Von Kurtz smiling down upon them from atop a tank-walker. The Baron had on a pair of etheric oil goggles that covered his eyes but Killman could tell they still shone with absolute and utter madness.
“Vell, vell, vell, it seems that mein old friend Sergeant Killman has made a pilgrimage to see me,”Von Kurtz sneered. “I suppose I should be flattered that the nations of the vorld have sent their best man to face me.”
“Hand over the princess Kurtz and we promise to make your death a quick one,”Killman shouted.
Von Kurtz cackled as his voice reached an even higher pitch.
“Generous as alvays, Gute Sergeant, but I suggest we ask the princess herself vhat she vishes in the matter.”
A woman clothed in dark, revealing black leather emerged from the top hatch of the tank and joined the Baron atop it. Watkins stammered and even Killman was taken aback when they both realized that it was none other than Princess Sophia who stood by the Baron’s side. She threw her head back, her long golden hair shimmering in the sun and laughed. It had the same crazed maleficence as Von Kurtz’s own. The sound was joined by the thrumming drone of jetpacks filled the air as a legion of servo-soldiers descended upon them.
“I extend to you a similar offer to the one you gave me, the Baron shouted. “Surrender now and your deaths shall be quick and painless.” His grin somehow got even wider than before. “Vell, mostly painless.”
Killman spat as he reloaded his rifle with a new clip.
“Give up? Shucks Baron, why would I do that when this just got a whole helluva lot more interesting?”
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