Clockwork Firefly

Clockwork Firefly - Chapter Thirteen

"I want the last car destroyed along with everything inside of it." Peter Walter the first spoke in clipped tones as he lead the parade of men and machines through the depot. The usually sunny California sky was heavily covered by leaden clouds that rumbled and flashed with the promise of rain.

"Understood, Father." Peter the second spoke as he directed the parade to split into three sections. Spine and Rabbit had each took a side of a nigh-unconscious Peter the third, the fact he was bound in the Blue Matter powered restraint was hidden by the black overcoat wrapped around his shoulders. In the thirty-six hours they had been racing across the southern portion of the United States, he had grown docile and quiet, his skin slightly paled and, under the sunlight that now poured down on them, his ebony hair had an almost Catalina blue shade near his temples. He was loaded into the Liberty Six's backseat between the pair of robots and his father next to the driver in front. Mary was walking with The Jon. She still wore the only dress she had, but otherwise she was holding up remarkably well. She had barely spoken at all, but she was not as skittish as she had been. The bruises were worse to look at, having had time to turn purple and yellow like crushed eggplants, but if they pained her, she did not let it show. She and the Jon took the back seat of the '21 Roamer and Peter oversaw the loading of the instruments and the personal luggage that the quartet of porters were carrying in their respective arms into the truck that made up the last of the three vehicles with the Walter Robotics logo upon the door. They pulled out into the street, and began the last leg of their journey back to Walter Manor.

They had wired ahead, and the staff had been alerted to what preparations would be required, though they'd said little else. It was the sort of thing that needed to be said in person. The parade of cars pulled up before the manor, the door to which opened before any in the vehicles could come to a full stop. At the door, the flicker of lightning glinted off of a bronze face adorned with a brilliantly titian-hued handlebar mustache. Dressed in a black suit and bowler hat, a small stovepipe seeping steam sticking out of it just above the brim, he gave a bow of his head in greeting as the cars emptied. His brows moved over his nose in a look most concerned as Peter the third was half walked, half drug past him by a sober Rabbit and The Spine. He watched them proceed through the hall and then down the stairs to the room beside the workshop which had been constructed to mirror the wire's demands. A safely padded place where he could rail and thrash without doing himself further harm.

After the others passed, Hatchworth closed the door and moved toward the Colonel. "Welcome home, Colonel." He spoke to the elder Walter as he stripped off his coat and hand and handed them over to be hung up. "Peter." He nodded to Peter the third as well. His bright blues pinned on the woman who was with them and he felt a pang of something sad. "Welcome to Walter manor, Miss." He motioned and a pair of the young maids moved over to them. "This is Margaret and Colleen. They will show you to your room." He watched her as she looked around the mansion, obviously a little overwhelmed, but she nodded and even offered the girls a wan smile as they lead her to a wide staircase and up toward her room. He fell into step behind the elder Walter when he moved off toward where his laboratory and second son were. "Colonel Walter ... I am sorry, but you have company."

"Tell them it is a bad time."

Hatchworth gave a small sound of apology as he pressed on. "I do not think, Sir, that she will be dissuaded. She has come every day, and always insists on waiting for you." His somewhat more mechanical manner of conveying himself marking himself was kept low. "She arrives each day at eight in the morning, and does not leave until sunset. She refuses drink and food..." He looked left and right, the bright orange of his mustache bristling a bit in his unease. "Sir... she is African."

The colonel gave a look toward the door through which his son had been taken, and swore faintly. To have some visitor from the dark continent at the same time that his son had been laid low by what he knew to be related to green matter somehow? It was impossible to think it was a coincidence. He'd no choice but to attend to this business and then get on to the more important task of helping his younger son. "Peter..." Speaking to the elder, stopping him in his tracks.