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Lady Horus spent a good two or three minutes watching Eve read the newspapers. She appreciated the woman's classy demeanor and general good taste, but she was her only real lead at this point - and if she wasn't careful, she was going to step on the broken glass she'd just put on the floor with those pretty bare feet. After a moment's consideration of the relative merits of appearing unannounced in another woman's bedroom, she took a moment to step through the nearby bedroom door (when her target's back was turned), give the hall a quick once-over, and then firmly knock. When she spoke, she spoke with the voice and intonation of a god. "Emily Eve! The Sunhawk would have words with thee!

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GM

 

The door opened, not too fast for alarm, not too fast for fear. 

 

Her robe wrapped a little tighter round her, the cigarette snubbed out. 

 

She frowned; not too tightly too distort her face, but a frown undeniably. 

 

"Who are you? The Sunhawk?" she said, although Lady Horus suspected a click of familiarity in Ms. Eve's eyes. "And what are you doing in my house? Come to rob me?" she asked, defiantly. Lady Horus caught sight of a derringer antique (although perfectly servicible) in her right hand, hidden behind robe and wall. It would do little, of course, to hurt Lady Horus, but the fact it was in her hand was interesting. Lady Eve showed not a hint of fear, but she was not bold to the point of stupidity either. Lady Horus got the impression that she was dealing with an astute, intelligent and cunning woman. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

What Anna Cline thought was Oh honey, if I'd come to rob ya, I'd already have yer jewels. What she said was, "Nay, I come on a grimmer errand. Thy secretary Verity Child is dead - I have come to find her murderer, and to know what you know." With casual ease, she walked into the bedroom, tossing her ankh from hand to hand as she did so. "You have a taste for old things," she commented with a look at the derringer. "As do I." Anna wondered for a moment if bringing her sidekick along on the mission might have made things go more smoothly, but Esperanza's usual methods of interrogation (especially of "rich bitches" as she called both men and women alike) were probably a bit too forceful for this encounter. 

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GM

 

"Verity? Dead?" replied Ms. Emily Eve. She looked - not exactly shocked - but surprised, perhaps upset. It was the face of someone who had heard much grim news in her life and now, heart scarred, was dulled to further shock. 

 

Dulled, but not immune. 

 

She took a few steps backwards and sat down, her equilibruim lost. Her antique derringer hung loosely in her hand. 

 

"How come you to this sadness?" she asked, looking up at Horus. "What strand of fate has woven you into this story?"

 

 

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"The Sunhawk's light shines on poor and rich alike," spoke Lady Horus, though what Anna really wanted to say was Somebody's gotta give a damn in this little podunk burg or nobody's gonna give a damn at all. "There has been death in the Iron Works before - but not for some time." She remembered names from her girlhood, from her father's stories about life in Bedlam; Polish and Italian guys who'd gone in there and never come out again. "What do you know of this?

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GM

 

"A death, in Bedlam?" sighed Ms Eve, looking away. "Who would have thought it?" she whispered, cynical and sour. "This city is putrid, is it not?"

 

She stood up and gazed around her antique bedroom in her antique house. 

 

"Putrid and vile. The worst I have seen in se...in a long time" she muttered, bitter. "Its why I surround myself with beautiful things from the past. To remind me that man is capable of some elegance despite the blackness...and light...in the heart" she explained. "You know what they call me? Antique twist. I like it. I am antique. And twisted" she said through suitably twisted lips. 

 

She turned to Lady Horus one more. 

 

"If it happened in the Iron Works I suppose I am woven into this tale, am I not? And presumably as suspect, too. So be it, then, such is the nature of my life" she said, firmly. And now, she put the derringer away. "I don't directly involve myself with the Iron Works. At least, I don't actually go there. I was in fact playing cards last night. Rather late, too. I possibly had too much gin" she said. "I don't like the Iron Works, but I do run it. Through people like Verity, and Mr Todd, its cheif engineer. That greasy fat Mrs Cartwell, the foreman..or forelady, I am not sure of the modren language on the matter, it changes every year and I can't keep up" she said, waving a languid arm. 

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Lady Horus frowned. Jeez, this lady talks like some kind of Shakespeare-in-the-Park wackadoo. Does she always talk so artsy-fartsy...or is she just talking like this because she thinks it's how she's supposed to talk to Lady Horus? Of course, that didn't necessarily mean she was playing her false. People in Bedlam tended to get rather nervous when the city's bulletproof divine vigilante broke into their bedrooms first thing in the morning. "Gold doth not make one great," Lady Horus said evenly, "One makes one great." Twirling her ankh, she went on, "Thou hast a ready tongue, Lady Eve, especially under these circumstances." She took a few steps, deliberately crunching on the broken glass under the shattered window. "My work," she added, "You need not worry - if you are innocent. Did Verity serve the Works well? Had she enemies there? Friends?

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GM

 

"Gold does not male one great. One makes one great. And gold makes one" replied Eve, a smile to her lips that was hot and cold. 

 

"No more than the next man" she answered, meeting gaze with gaze. "She was a pretty girl, Verity. Turned the head of many men, and I dare say a few women, too. I am sure she had some admirers, and we had the odd case of sexual harrassment. Men will be men, as I am sure you are aware, and most doubly so in a hot house like the Iron Works, which remains the domain of men" she said, stiffly. 

 

"Friends though, surely. She was well liked enough. I would not stretch to popular but she rubbed few up the wrong way, and plenty the right. And as for her work, she was good. I would not stretch to exemplary, but I had little cause to complain. Worked hard, that I would say assuredly". 

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Damn! I was really hoping I could smack some sense into this broad but I don't think she knows anything - and I ain't gonna go making enemies for no purpose after I already banged up her bedroom. After all, if she was gonna spend her golden years up here where the cold hurt her knees half the year, she needed to start making more friends. "You have my thanks, fair Eve. I will find the one who stained your factory with the blood of the murdered dead - and exact the Sunhawk's vengeance." With that, she was gone out the window again; this time with perhaps slightly less property damage. A lunch meeting with her sidekick in the latter's converted chemistry lab persuaded Wadjet to join her for an evening's excursion; after all, she had some new gear she was ready to field-test, and wasn't she tired of always being the backup? 


And so it was that that night, just about the time the Packers exhibition game was coming on the local TV sports channels and any red-blooded son of Wisconsin was busy, that the costumed visage of Wadjet the sniper entered the home of Martin Todd, the supervising engineer of the Iron Works. Wadjet lacked the powers of her sponsor but she was well-trained; and armed. Slowly she moved through the house, taking it as a tactical exercise to make sure she would have Todd's undivided attention...

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GM

 

Martin Todds house was across the road from the Iron Works. Literally, just across the road. His security was tight. An old fashioned lock of exceptional complexity. It took even Wadjet, who knew her way around locks, nearly half an hour of sweat and tears to pick. 

 

As soon as Wadjet entered the house, she noticed something was off. The furniture, the kitchen, the...

 

Martin Todd was a dwarf. 

 

From the looks of it, he was smart. Lots of books, computers, and several framed certficiates for academic distinction in the fields of engineering, metallurgy, and robotics. A very smart guy. 

 

But also, he was completely engrossed in the sports game, as predicted. With a beer by his side, and reclining in an exceptionally comfortable chair, Martin Todd was oblivious to Wadjet...

 

 

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"Martin Todd!

 

Rather than waste one of her limited shots, Wadjet let her growl alert Todd to her presence - an armored, masked figure with a good-sized rifle. If it was all reworked paintball gun gear, well, someone in your house without you knowing it was still intimidating enough. Her gender wasn't immediately obvious either; which suited "Pharoah's assassin" and her own inclinations just fine. "Here to talk about your job. Dead woman." She'd always lacked for the social graces, she had to admit, but she'd found that her costume, her weapon, and her manner had a way of breaking down doors. "Don't turn off the television. Neighbors'll worry."

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GM

 

Todd was moderately intoxicated, and took a second or two to pull his brain into gear. 

 

"By Hephasteus! What are you doing in my house!" he gasped, scrabbling to his feet. His short stature did not diminish his boldness or intelligence. No, it did not. The beer, however, did. 

 

"I mean, whatever you say...don't shoot!" he babbled as his brain clocked the gun. 

 

The television was resolutely on. Some cheers went up from some success or another but Todd paid no attention. 

 

"What dead woman?" he gulped. 

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Other people's mistakes were something Esperanza couldn't stand. "Listen, idiot!" she snapped, "Ptah is the Egyptian smith god - Hephaestus is Greek!" She stared at the man and decided perhaps this was the wrong time for this conversation. "The one that died in your plant. The one that everyone's investigating." Everyone was not in fact looking into it, but if this guy thought a lot of eyes were coming his way, he might be willing to talk.

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GM

 

"Hephasteus...Ptah...." echoed a rather befuddled Mr. Todd. 

 

He shook himself from said befuddlement, and back to focus through the blaze of beer. 

 

"Er...yes...that one..." he gulped. 

 

He slumped into his chair. 

 

"Umm...do I get a lawyer or something?" he whispered, afraid now. "I mean, it wasn't my fault! Industrial accident! Health and safety! Due care and attention! Giant robot! Engineering error!" he mumbled, trying to bury the important words in a furious medly of truths and management throwaway statements. 

 

"There! I told you everything I know. Sort of!" he said, proudly. 

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Wadjet had been just about to explain to the little man the kinds of constitutional rights he was likely to get from Bedlam cops given how he looked - but wait, what did he just say? "...Giant robot?" she asked after several seconds of silence. If there was a giant robot in this town, she had to get a piece of that damned thing - and maybe destroy it if it was going to go around murdering people. Still, she could imagine what she could do with a thing like that...

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GM

 

"Did I say Giant Robot? I meant to say Giant Robot. I shouldn't talk about the Giant Robot...I should talk about the Giant Robot instead..." muttered Todd to himself, wringing his hands. 

 

"Yes, yes, there is a Giant Robot!" sighed Todd, mourning his situation. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear. I can't get it out of my head. I built a Giant Robot for Emily Eve, the owner of Iron Works. You know, they call her Antique Twist? Because she is twisted. And an antique" he said, angry now. "Ten feet high, cast Iron. Looks like it was built a hundred years ago, but full of modern technology" he said, proud now (his emotional state notably mecurial). 

 

"And that's only the prototype. Barrelhouse, his name. She wanted something thirty feet high next time, if not higher!" he explained. 

 

"Barrelhouse is but a tool, you see. It can be used wrongly, or rightly. Not intelligent, just a blunt tool" he continued. "But when I heard of that murder, I could only assume it was Barrelhouse. Or more accurately, somebody was using Barrelhouse as a weapon. Oh dear oh dear!"

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"Where is the robot now?" asked Wadjet, trying to keep the lust out of her voice. Not for the man, of course, or for the lady he described, but for the machine he was describing. Not that she would use a giant robot to go rampaging through town; Lady Horus had taught her how that kind of action would provoke superhuman retaliation even in a city like Bedlam. But the images of what she could do with it, especially if she could retrofit it with modern technology, put a smile on her face inside her mask that she couldn't quite keep out of her voice. 

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GM

 

Todd, for his part, was to busy wringing his guilty and agitated hands to notice Wadjet's grin (or the wranglings of her mind that had caused it). "In the Iron Works!" he explained. "In the centre, hidden behind more Iron. Heat, you see, nobody goes there. But Barrelhouse is designed to be most heat resistant! Yes, I am quite pleased with my metallurgy!" he said, pride once again seeping into his voice. Such was the way of the genius. 

 

"Deactivated, of course. Well, I think its deactitvated, anyway...."

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Wadjet made a snap decision and shot the man, blasting him in the face with an explosion of soporific chemicals that would hopefully leave him with hazy recollections of her little visit - and certainly leave him unconscious for a little while. Visions were dancing in her head that gave her a feeling of raw, burning joy, like standing close to an overclocked radiator on a cold day, and she had to take a moment to both make sure her target hadn't died and to make sure she could focus on the actual mission. Once she was sure he was down, she stepped away and called Anna Cline, luckily catching the old woman up late watching the 70s sitcom reruns she enjoyed so much. It took a little sweet-talking, and maybe some well-placed profanity - but within the space of about twenty minutes, Wadjet and Lady Horus were making their clandestine approach to the Ironworks again, this time looking for a giant robot! 

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GM

 

And thusly it was,

 

That Wadjet and the Lady crept throug the Iron Works. Oh, surely, there were locks (easily disposed of by Wadjet), and bored security guards (easily avoided). The security of the Iron Works was mediocre at this time of night. It might have caught the odd lioterer or vandal, but it was no match for determination, skill, and super-powers. 

 

The Iron Works never actually slept; one had to keep the heat on, the fires burning, the metal molten. There were a few night shift persons, but again, they were disinterested, just monitoring the early hours of the morn, watching bad TV and reading trash magazines more than actually paying attention. Easy enough to avoid, but a commotion would alert them. 

 

No commotion yet, however. 

 

The heat in the centre of the Iron Works was intense and uncomfortable and as they approached through the steel bars amd pipes, past steam and red hot molten metals, it only got worse. Nobody would last long in this heat, and sweating was profuse. 

 

And hidden amongst all the higgledy-piggledy bars and pipes, now that one knew what one was looking for, was a ten foot Robot, rotund of girth, looking like it had come from some Victorian Era. Powerful its arms, short its legs, and hissing with steam. And quite (it seemed) dormant. 

 

 

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The robot was smaller than Lady Horus had expected - but maybe that was because she'd been dealing with giant robots since she was younger than her sidekick. Cursing in her head whatever cruel divine jest had given her the power of a sungod without the ability to stand great heat, she dumped a full bottle of water on herself and said, "Lo, there lies Ptah's folly incarnate. I believe the time has come to free it from its bondage!" After a quick discussion, they'd both agreed that the most logical thing to do once they'd fought the robot was simply to take it. Justice in Bedlam being what it was, actually getting someone arrested for this was going to be a real trick - but if they took the tech and got it away from its current owners, they had a chance. Wadjet had seemed _very_ interested in getting her hot little hands on this year. 

 

"Yeah, I can do it," said Wadjet, swarming up the sides of the robot with alacrity. The gloves she'd brought would keep her hands from burning on any overheated metal, but she hadn't insulated her suit quite enough to take the heat. She wasn't squelching yet, but she would if they didn't get out of there posthaste. She stopped to douse herself with water, then drink some, just as she reached the robot's top. "Just make sure I don't get anybody riding up my ass!

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GM

 

As soon as Wadjet started to work on the skull of Barrelhouse, she heard a scuttling sound. Metal on matal. Rapid clangs. 

 

Climbing up a metal pole to her left side, she saw a spider. 

 

Not quite a spider, for it was two feet wide on spindly metal legs. A spider-robot. 

 

It stopped and glared at Wadjet with a dozen glowing red eyes. 

 

More clangs. 

 

Another spider robot was climbing up to her right. Then some more clangs over head, as two more spider robots appeared. 

 

In a second, six of the little arachnids (of robotic variety) were scuttling around, glaring. They seemed rather intent on protecting the Iron Giant beneath her...

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Wadjet cursed in Spanish - then in Miskito, as she went to work on the robot. Damn primitive garbage! she thought to herself as she began applying her safe-cracking tools to the task of removing its head. Why can't we have nice $(E(ing things in this $))%*(ing hellhole!? Her gear, mostly modified dental picks and screwdrivers for this task, was designed for slow, precision work when she had all the time in the world to take apart a nice piece of technology that she or Anna had picked up and brought back to their lab. Not while under fire, on fire (practically) in full costume! She tried to entertain herself with visions of what she was going to do with this thing once she got it open. 

 

For her part, Lady Horus went to work, knocking the head off one of the monkey-robots with a slash of her glowing gold ankh. Anna was an old pro at super-burglary and she knew that these robots weren't the real problem; these little bastards were probably sending an alarm to their boss even as they fought, and soon she'd be crashing through the wall on some kind of giant goddamned fire-breathing penny-farthing bicycle. Why is it so freakin' hot in here? Turning to her sidekick, she called, "Be moved to quickness! I have a plan...

 

 

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GM

 

Any such plan might have to wait!

 

Three of the little bots scuttle upwards, agile and nimble, jumping and swinging like monkeys through the hot metal bars. Then, twenty feet overheadm they struck at Lady Horus?

 

How, if twenty feet overhead, you might ask?

 

The answer would be a startling elongation of their limbs, two two dozen feet, spindly and strong. 

 

Meanwhile, the other two robots crawled up beside Wadjet, and with multiple limbs, they tried to knock her off her perch!

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When Wadjet fell, screaming, there really wasn't any other choice for Lady Horus. She turned and took off like a rocket, catching Esperanza around the shoulders and hips (to avoid breaking her spine) and rocketing them up into the upper reaches of the Works. She understood Esperanza's "The gun! The gun!" immediately but didn't make the connection about what it truly meant until she saw, and heard, the detonation down below as one of the tanks of molten metal ruptured from the explosion within! Why would they even leave the $(#Iing metal molten! Anna demanded of herself in an inner monologue that passed in the second or two before their feet touched the ground of the upper rafters. Who the hell is running this operation? Oh yeah, a crazy dwarf with delusions of grandeur. 

 

Her face set in a snarl of concentration, Lady Horus raised her ankh and fired a devastatingly bright beam of golden light down at the giant robot below, in her frustration trying to simply blast off the head whose security had so delayed her sidekick. She didn't speak, though; this was one of those situations where Lady Horus's Shakespearean intonations would seem like cheap mockery of the sizzle of angry words burning through her mind. 

 

Wadjet laid a hand on her linen-clad arm. "This is what happens when you make plans," she said frankly, "but listen to me, I know what to do...before those things get here, anyway!

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