The World Of Steam

14

Bullets flew everywhere across the city, the carnage quickly spreading, the war beginning. London was burning as the flames rose to great heights, crackling loudly like a pagan god of fire. People killed each other without a second thought. Friends turned to foes. Alliances were made and broken. I sat in a trench, just waiting for someone to pop up, waiting to kill another man. Suddenly, I saw a pair of feet at the edge of the trench and without even thinking, I aimed and pulled the trigger. The body fell backwards and collapsed onto the street, with its chance of invasion denied. I shifted the rifle's bolt and waited again. Sighing, I wondered what the hell I was going to do about all of this madness. A man fought against his enemies, shooting them down, cutting through anyone with a bowie knife that came too close to him. Ropes of blood flew about in the air, making his fight for survival almost look like an intricate ballet. He was then quickly cornered and stabbed to death. Suddenly, there came the sound of fierce roaring. The killers turned and saw people rushing to the scene, bladed weapons raised. Within seconds, they proceeded to kill their enemies in retaliation. Westminster Palace was filled to the brim with politicians from all opposing parties. An agreement had to be reached as to how to stop the war. By only working together, they could stop the dreadful events that were about to occur. But they were far from even beginning negotiations. They all argued amongst themselves, shouting and roaring obscenities to one another. The Speaker shouted over everyone, trying to maintain order, but no one listened. The cacophony of shouts shook the walls. The politicians were so enraptured in their argument that they were oblivious to the inevitable event that was quickly nearing them. A mob, all armed with rifles and machine guns, marched through the palace, following the sounds of arguing. They kicked the doors open and proceeded with killing the politicians with no mercy, gunning them down. Bodies quickly fell as the bullets tore through their expensively tailored suits. Within less than a minute, the invasion was over. The dead politicians laid slumped in their blood splattered seats, other bodies littered the floor, not a single survivor in sight. Bullet holes decorated the seats and walls. One man grabbed the golden mace and stood up onto the Speaker's chair, holding it up high into the air. The mob cheered in victory, raising their weapons. Without waiting for anything else, they got to work with looting the corpses and whatever other treasures laid about. Once the building was empty of its inhabitants and valuables, it was quickly torched to the ground. St Paul's Cathedral exploded, spraying cement and glass everywhere. Nelson's Column toppled over like a drunkard on one leg. The British Museum was quickly looted of its stolen artefacts. Chaos ruled the country.

A large mob converged onto a meat processing plant and broke the doors down, spilling inside. Butchers proceeded to hack away at limbs with cleavers, covering the floor in human blood. They were no match for them as the mob gunned them down. They moved forward, splitting up into all different directions. The mob went across bridges and pathways, suspended over giant brass vats which were filled to the brim with human blood and hacked off limbs. Naked human corpses hung from gigantic hooks, dripping blood into sewer systems. The walls were decorated with an array of a maze of pipes that hissed steam. The entire factory stunk of meat and metal. Two of the invaders went across a bridge and looked down at a conveyor belt that transported the corpses. The dead bodies fell into a giant machine at the end of the conveyor, being ground up into minced meat in a second. Blood splashed down onto the floor through numerous tiny holes at the bottom of the machine. The red fluid ran down sluice boxes and into the sewers below. Leftover pieces were carried along another conveyor and burned up inside a furnace, forever fuelling the plant. The two invaders looked at each other in disgust, having finally found out how their food was being made. Of course, cannibalism was normal in a time like this, but this was on a whole new level. They went further along the bridge and were both confronted by a butcher that carried two cleavers in both of his hands that were more like short swords. They went to fire at him, but in an instant, he threw one of the cleavers to one of them, sticking the blade square into his face. Before the other invader had time to attack, the butcher hacked off his arm in one swift swoop. The invader roared as blood spurted from his stump. The butcher suddenly delivered a shoulder to his chest. He toppled over the side of the bridge, falling straight into the machine. The factory was filled with the screams of abject agony for a second as the blades swallowed his feet, tore up his flesh and ground his bones into meal. Blood splashed all over the inside of the machine, painting it in a horrific shade of bright red. A man fought against his enemy, both of them standing on a working conveyor belt. They punched each other, landing blows to one another's faces. The butcher suddenly kicked him down. The man went to get up, but his coat had caught itself in the wheels of the conveyor belt, quickly being swallowed up into the machinery, torn to tatters. He managed to take his coat off, but was too late as the conveyor ended, sending him into a fiery furnace. He shrieked and flailed about as the flames cooked him to a crisp. The butchers kept fighting, turning the factory into a blood soaked battlefield.