Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Books 2 & 3

These small-minded interlopers were destroying everything. Frankenstein made his way quickly down the escape tunnel. It had felt like an extravagance when he had them included in the design, especially as it had required him to murder a lot of the workers and architects. Now it was all worth it. The tunnel turned a corner and ended at a secret elevator. He opened the door, stepped aboard, and activated the battery-backed-up lift mechanism. The elevator cubicle shuddered into motion and crept upward.

It was a small cubicle, barely enough for his big golem body. That in itself was annoying. He had wasted this prime combat body and then wound up in a situation where even it wouldn't have saved him. Unleashing the vault of failures had been an act of desperation. Who knows what other tricks that witch Baba-Yaga might have used? He didn’t think she would be able to wield her full power while wearing that girl's body as a puppet, but he hadn’t gotten where he was today by underestimating ancient evils.

Some of the contents of his vault of failures were terrifying even to him. Like the vampire. It had taken him quite an effort of time and resources to capture the thing. He had broken four of his mind imprinting machines trying to capture what was in its head. Eventually, he had given up and imprisoned it in his sturdiest vault.

He realized with a shudder that his literal-minded lab assistants had probably released it too when they opened the vault of failures. A pity, since he had always hoped to find a way to harness its power. No matter. He had to get out of here. His fortress was lost, and it was time to implement his contingency plans.

He hated the idea of leaving behind so many resources for his self-destruct systems to obliterate. But he had no choice. He had not amassed his wealth and power by taking risks just to hold on to a few trinkets. With his effective immortality, he could afford to take the long view.

The elevator shuddered to a halt. Frankenstein yanked its grate aside with a clang. A short hallway led to a secret door, and then he was back in his private office.

Behind the desk, against the wall, was a hidden control panel. He opened it, activated its power circuit, and inspected the lights as they lit up. He smiled. The Luft engines were all green, and the self-destruct circuits were active.

Hiroshi woke in a fog. Literal clouds of green gas swirled around him, but they were dissipating. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here. His tongue felt thick and his body heavy. In fact, everything about his body felt wrong. He moved to sit up, and every motion felt like he was a thousand miles away, working with someone else's body. His limbs felt too short and his head too big.

"Where am I?" he muttered.

He put a hand to his head and touched cloth. His face was covered with his ninja mask. As he felt at it, he realized it wasn't his familiar mask, but what felt like a cheap facsimile, something they would sell to tourists in Kyoto.

Kyoto. Where was that? The thought of tourists there made sense, but he couldn't remember anything else about the place. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Where was he from?

With a sudden panic, he realized his master might be in danger. Where was his lord? The thought made no sense. Who was his lord? He couldn't remember anything. Just disconnected bits and fragments. A flash of a house and a woman pouring tea. A courtyard full of students training with wooden swords. Nothing that tied it all together made sense.

"Senpai, where are we?" A familiar voice spoke next to him. He snapped his head around and saw a grotesque little figure climbing from a metal pod. Its limbs and body were only half the size of a normal man's, but its head was the normal size. It was dressed in black from head to toe in what he could only describe as a cheap ninja costume. He realized he was looking at it over the lip of his own metal canister.

Then the green fog around them thinned, and he saw horrors. Creeping shapes scuttled in the swirling gas. Hiroshi gave a start and desperately looked about for his sword. It was there, right next to him, in the pod. He snatched it up. His fingers were short and stubby, making the handle feel wrong. His sword was familiar. It was his ancestral blade given to him by... by no one at all. It was less like his memory was a tapestry full of holes and more like it was a vast empty void with tiny pinpricks of memories.

"Where are we, senpai?"

He couldn't remember the other’s name, but he didn't want to show weakness in front of his junior. "I don't know. We've been captured."

The other black-clad figure gasped. "It is a great dishonor." Something in the way he said it seemed strange, almost like he was making a joke. "We must commit seppuku."

That made sense to Hiroshi, and yet it made no sense at all, like a thought put into his head by someone else. Something in him told him that that was a tenet of Bushido, but it felt wrong, unfamiliar, and alien.

"No," he said, hefting his sword. He looked over to see his compatriot was also armed.

"We have our weapons. The true dishonor would be in failing to make the enemy pay."

The gas had swirled almost completely away, and all around him, more things were moving. Figures crawled out of tanks, not black-clad caricatures of ninjas, but twisted abominations. Something covered in fur growled, and then scuttled out the door. Farther away, a hunched-over figure sat sobbing and rocking back and forth.

A hand landed on his pod. Hiroshi turned with a start. Something bulging-eyed, and scaly-faced looked at him from feet away. "Kill me," the twisted mouth hissed. "Kill me."

Hiroshi plunged his sword through its eye socket without hesitation. As he wiped his blade, he told himself it was what the thing had wanted. His sense of honor had made him react so quickly. Certainly, it hadn't been fear.

Hiroshi moved to climb out of his tank. His body, though stubby and out of proportion, was strong and full of energy. He leapt, flipped in the air, and landed on the edge of his compatriot's tank.

"Senpai, where must we go?"

Suddenly, two more black-clad figures popped up from the far side of his kohai's tank.

"Comrades," one said, "we must go to defend our lord."

Hiroshi frowned. Who were these newcomers? Something about them felt all wrong. Their voice, their accent, everything.

"Who is our lord?" he growled.

The two figures glanced at each other. "Master Frankenstein, of course."

The name was familiar and gave him a pang of anger. He remembered something of this Frankenstein. A maker of artificial men. A flesh crafter. Had he done this to Hiroshi? Turned him into some sort of mockery of a shadow warrior?

“Have we died, to wake up in this hell?” his kohai asked.

Hiroshi shrugged. “Perhaps. But before we leave this hell, there is one other we must commend to the afterlife.”

A thought trickled into Hiroshi's mind. "Where are we?"

The two strangers looked at each other again and said in unison, "Frankenstein's Fortress!"

His sword lashed out. The first false ninja's head flew off. With his backstroke, he cut across the throat of the second one. The man gagged, choked, and then fell out of sight.

"Senpai, what have you done? They were our allies!"

"No, kohai. They were false, twisted creatures created by this Frankenstein."

The thought made him physically ill. He looked down at the two black-clad figures he had slain. These are what we were meant to be. Artificial creations of this Frankenstein. Servants to conform to whatever twisted idea he had in his mind of what a ninja should be.

The other ninja held up his hands and looked at them, one empty and one clutching his ninja sword. In a whisper, he asked, "What are we? Are we not also abominations? What has been done to us?"

He looked up at Hiroshi, desperation in his eyes, which were the only part of him Hiroshi could see through his all-covering black outfit. "How can we live like this?" In a flash, he drew his sword and held it against his own gut. "Honor demands my death!"

Hiroshi quickly held up a hand.

"Stop! These thoughts of honor are not yours. They have been put there from..." He shook his head. "I know not how. My mind is broken and full of holes, but I see things that are not my own thoughts. Guard against them, my friend. We must find the one who did this to us and make him pay."

Hiroshi lifted his sword.

"We must find Frankenstein."