Origin: Proof of Concept

            Flint’s smile quickly faded after he had made his way down the path. He had to come to a stop as he found himself at a dead end. The path through the bushes had put him at the edge of a small cliff. A few feet below was a roaring river. Too wide to leap across. Heading a little too fast for Flint’s taste.

            He strained his neck, trying to tell if it was shallow enough that he could still walk it. Looking side to side, he could see he had missed any attempt of a quick way across. He sighed, placing the burlap sack he had been caring down. Rifling through his belt, he found the holster for his flare gun, and checked to insure the yellow smoke was loaded into it. Aiming to the sky, Flint pulled the trigger and released the flare.

            It rose to the sky and exploded in a show of yellow splendor. Smiling, Flint re-pocketed the flare gun and drew his pistol. Odds are he’d have to make his way back around and head to a better position. The yellow may not be the best thing in this daylight.

            Reaching for the sack, Flint was halted by the sound of a bullet being loaded into a repeater. Spinning around, pistol ready, Flint could see a band of four men had cut off his path backwards, and all of them were ready to begin firing their guns once more.

            “It appears you are outnumbered, Yank,” smirked their leader, a tyrant of a bandit lord named Samuel Klintock.

            “Thought you could come out west and pester us?” chuckled one of his companions, “What do we do with Yanks that head too far west, Boss?”

            “Well, let’s see,” said Klintock, pretending to mull it over, “I suppose we can civilize him a bit. Give him a fair trial.”

            The group joined together in an unsettling group chuckle. Flint wondered if he had the skill to shoot all four of them before dying himself. Klintock held a very basic repeater, Winchester Rifle. Two of his goons had, what appeared to be, three-barreled, revolving rifles. The last held a custom double-barreled shotgun, with two revolver cylinders so it could fire up to ten shotgun shells. Flint’s odds did not look too well.

            “Charges?” said Klintock, his eyes narrowing, “Trespassing, bad-mouthing, being a god-damned Yank, discharging of firearms towards my men, and… oh yes: Robbery, thievery, and attempted escape of justice!”

            “Nice list of charges, there,” Flint said, returning his glare, “I have counter charges. Extortion, unlawful taxation, pillaging, assisting pirates… being UGLY”

            “I rule these parts, stranger,” said Klintock, gesturing around them, “My trio of aerial craft made me the master. It means we are not under no laws of these United States, buckaroo.”

            “You hear that, boss?” commented the one with the shotgun, “It sounds as if the ships are starting!”

            Sure enough, the pause that followed gave Flint the chance to hear the faint sound of an engine in the distance. Over the shoulders of his aggressors, as well as the short hill he had just descended, he could still see the top-half of a small, haphazardly put together dirigible making its way towards the group.

            Flint knew Klintock had stolen the ships and pieced them together in a way to make decent war machines. With their operation not being big enough to warrant federal action during the war, they took over a large plot of land and settled down. Now that the war was over, they were left alone due to their tendency to not affect federal matters. The airships, although liable to fall out of the sky on their own power, were enough to hold a small army at bay for weeks. Those, plus his allegiances with many Airship Pirates and Bandits (not to mention his own small army) meant no-one was eager to de-throne him.

            “Well, got to call in your ships for one man?” asked Flint.

            “More of a show of force,” said Klintock, “I don’t want to walk back, and everyone needs to be reminded of who’s really in power!”

            “I don’t think you’re the one in power at all. I am seeing more of a… neglected uprising.”

            “Well, you shouldn’t have broken that,” said Klintock, “There’s a reason others neglect me. Now… give back what you took, Yank.”

            “Happy to,” said Flint, grabbing the burlap sack and tossing it to Klintock’s feet.

            Klintock was uneasy with the sack, so he motioned for one of the brutes to open it and check it. Inside they pulled out around fifty dollars in cash and change as well as a large gold nugget. Klintock’s face, however, brightened when he saw an iron skull that had been decorated with a lot of patterns and symbols.

            “My most prized possession,” said Klintock, holstering his rifle to grab it and look it over, “Do you have any idea how long it took to form this just right? To craft this beauty?”

            “Yeah, thought it would look great as a trophy,” smiled Flint.

            “Trophy?”

            “Yeah. My real job was really simple,” said Flint, smiling, “I was hired to get you out here!”

            “What do you mean?” said Klintock, “We have you cornered. Any second my men will be here.”

            “Yeah… but for two hundred dollars, I had to insure you left the city,” Flint smiled, “So… here we are!”

            “What do you mean?” said Klintock, “Why would someone pay you to get me out of the city?”

            “Well… sort of you,” said Flint, allowing a smirk to spread, “You see… what you do not know is… three alarms have gone off in various locations around your little plot of land. The local rangers, for instance, have been so kind as to attack and destroy your guard tower and checkpoint on the south side. That means a good portion of your men are taking up arms and heading down there right now for what they think is some easy battling.”

            Klintock shook his head, smiling, “How on earth does that help?”

            “Because your boys are not waiting for backup,” said Flint, smiling, “In fact, they believe that those airships you scrambled… those are for them.”

            Klintock’s face hardened as he thought it through, and he shot a glance at the others in his group before returning to Flint.

            “Oh, and that is stupid because the rangers have a good many armored walkers at their disposal today, as well as three automaton fighters.”

            “No match for my forces,” said Klintock.

            “No… not all of them. But as I was saying, on the north side of the compound? Your little mining operation has hit a rut… At first glance it would appear that a few fighters from the local tribe have sabotaged your mining equipment. However, any second those northern boys are going to be calling in for backup do to an overabundance of Native warriors who gained the balls to rise against you and take back their land.”

            “I see you’ve been busy,” said Klintock.

            “OH! In the West it will appear that a local vigilante is up to his old tricks and will spend most of the day sniping your troops as they attempt to aid in the rescue of one of your supply wagons.”

            “That is enough!” said Klintock, “None of this matters! I have three airships! I have an army! And after I am done with you none of that will matter in the slightest!”

            “Maybe not,” said Flint, “But surprisingly… it’s not what you have that matters, but what I have.”

            “You have a pistol,” said the shotgun wielding henchmen.

            “I… have a trick up my sleeve,” said Flint, a smile beginning to form as he heard the ground begin to shake.

            The others had begun noticing it for some time, and they looked from one to another as the vibrations picked up in intensity. By the time it had broken the ravine even Klintock couldn’t keep himself from gawking.

            A massive Landship. Six legs casting out, propelling it forward, and cannons shining as the metal gleamed in the sun. It strode of rocks and hills with no effort, and despite appearing to move slowly, it wasted no time in closing the expanse of space between it and the small group. As it neared, it turned sideways to display the row of new cannons both sticking out of its sides and turrets that swiveled sideways. The largest of these cannons turned slowly, but extended the farthest any of the men has ever seen. It looked like a smaller version of the trans-Atlantic artillery cannons used during the war.

            “Still… means… nothing,” stammered Klintock.

            Flint seized his chance. Turning his pistol on the shotgun wielding thug, he fired off a shot quickly, then wasted no time aiming at the other thug and shooting him as well. Klintock had dropped his skull and reached for his rifle as Flint dodged a shot from the second thug. Flint’s third shot got the thug right in the gut, sending him flying back into the dirt in pain. Left standing was Klintock and Flint, both aiming their weapons at the other, ready to fire.

            “I want you to see it,” said Flint, “Watch as it destroys your precious airships!”

            “They are much too far for your cannons,” smiled Klintock, “and now you are at a disadvantage. As they will rise into the sky and rain down death upon that ship! Where on earth did you get a Landship like that?”

            “It’s mine,” said Flint, “I own it. The Scorpios is the first of its kind.”

            “A landship is hardly a revolution,” said Klintock, smiling, “And outdated. Even this old Military model will not save you! Whoever you are… who are you?”

            “I, am Lieutenant Nathaniel Flint, sir. And your city has revolted against you. I was hired to set them free. Two hundred dollars they didn’t even have. I united your enemies to harass you in every way possible and lead you away from your precious fortress. Now that your men are scattered and weak, your fortress closes behind you. The people take up arms. From the south, rangers will gain courage to attack you. For the North, the natives will see to it none who oppose them survive. You can gain no supplies or reinforcements form your camps in the west. And from the east… your Airships will meet their doom.”

            “Shut up, you fool!” said Klintock, “My airships have beaten Doughboys and Rangers alike! I’ve beat back the savages! You cannot hit them from here!”

            BOOM!

            The explosion ripped out through the land, the sound wave vibrating Flint’s ribcage. Looking back, he could see the Scorpios had fired its main cannon. The shot streaked across the sky, causing Klintock to follow it with his gaze. The shot slammed into the dirigible’s balloon, hard, and ignited its gas in an explosion that could be felt from Flint’s location. The wreckage of the ship burned the entire way to the ground below. The other two craft were just beginning to clear the walls of Klintock’s mighty fortress.

            Klintock turned, firing a shot. It missed, but snapped Flint into action. Side stepping Flint dove and fired off several shots. Klintock kept firing as well, except he ran forward and dived off the cliff. Only one of Flint’s bullets hit, digging into Klintock’s calf. Klintock fired off a last shot before disappearing into the river.

            Flint ran to the edge, and fired off several more shots into the river before running out. He cursed under his breath, but ran to the sack. He stuffed the money and the trinkets back into it before running back up the path.

            BOOM!

            Another shot from the Scorpios caught the second airship as it attempted to turn. The ship exploded, and fell from the sky outside of the fortresses walls. The last Airship was turning around, and running from the Landship. Flint could see its weapons flaring. It was most likely firing at the uprising inside the town.

            Looking east, Flint could see smoke rising. He knew that the Rangers would never miss a chance to claim glory for liberating the town. Looking north, Flint could see no smoke. But he also could see motorized carriages and bikes attempting to leave the mountain.

            BOOM!

            The shot streaked across the landscape, slamming into the dirigible and igniting its interior. Flint smiled, putting his hands on his hips.

            “Well… I would say another job well done,” he nodded.

            Flint holstered his revolver and grabbed the flare gun again. Loading the green cartridge, he raised the gun and fired. He could hear the legs shift on his Landship and the ground shake. A large metal leg reached over him and dug into the dirt a few yards away, and Flint could hear the mechanics of the ship screech and wail as it pulled the ship forward and lifted other legs.

            Flint turned around from the fortress when he was overtaken with the shadow of his great ship.