As my breath caught in my throat, I watched as the smallest of the wind-up spiders inched its way closer to us. The clicks of their legs gracing the cold stone of the floor sent shivers up my bare arms.

"Come on Eva!" And with that, I felt a tug as Oliver grabbed hold of my shoulder, pulling me towards the staircase: our only exit.

"R-right!" I shakily replied, but as I took a step forward, I watched as one of the Automaton creature's eyes shifted from its soft yellow to a threatening crimson. Only a moment later, a sharp wail emitted from its form, resounding again and again off the brick cellar walls. It would be impossible for the Gadgeteer to sleep through the racket, and sure enough, I saw him taking a position near the top of the steps, blocking our only way out.

"I should have known you'd be back," I heard him say, hate in his words as I saw him shift his arm forward, something small in his hand. My eyes widened as the light of the rising sun caught its frame. A pistol, aimed straight at Oliver. "You Brits are determined to take everything from me!" His gaze shifted to myself, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "And you Americans are no better. I've learned that now."

"Watch out!" I cried as I pushed Oliver down, a bullet whistling over his head. No sooner had I done that, then a sharp pain carved through the back of my left calf, smooth as a surgeon's knife through a patient's chest. Looking back, I could see the metallic monsters were upon us now, the closest raising its leg. My blood dripped down the shaft, its tesla bulb eyes gleaming as it prepared to strike once again.

Click... click... click...

On the third click, the gear on its side released, spinning in reverse as the leg sent towards my flesh once again. I managed to dodge it with a roll to the side, only to come face to face with two more replicas of the first beast. With them seemingly needing to take the time to wind their legs in position, I was able to shove them back, sending the largest, taller than both Oliver and I, careening over with a topple, until it was sprawled across the floor. Turning back, I tried to take a step up the stairs, but my knees almost gave out from under me.

Bloody hell! I thought as I tried to pull myself back up to standing, trying to push both the irony of my phrasing, and the fact that I was thinking words that a lady of my status should never utter, out of my mind. The world spun before me for a second, when I felt a rough motion at my side.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice sounding weak as I saw Oliver digging through my bag. He didn't answer though, and I watched as with a quick motion, he whipped my knife out of the bag, and dashed out the steps in a low, agile stance.

The Gadgeteer seemed almost stunned by his speed and confidence, shooting wildly at him. I cried out as I watched one tear through his side, another at his forearm, but he continued forward. It was only when their noses touched that he swung the knife out, pushing the Gadgeteer's weapon and arm aside, and wrapping an arm around his back, using the leverage to pin the man immobile against the hallway.

"Not so confi'ent without our li'l toy now, are we?" Oliver cooed, and I could help but notice his accent grow thicker in his poorly hidden frustration. For a moment, it was all I could think of, as I felt my heart beating a good number of paces faster. Of course, the creatures behind me pulled me away from my stupor, and I wasted no time in rapidly making my way up the steps, my leg dragging lamely behind, and locking the door behind me. It was horrifying, hearing the scratches and screeches of grinding metal behind the door, but the Gadgeteer's creations could no longer harm us. Now, we only had to deal with the master himself.

"Go ahead then," he muttered venomously to Oliver. "Take the last thing I have. My life. Let me see my wife, my child." His words were confident, but I could hear him shaking behind them. He wanted to go down like a prideful man, but anyone could tell he had no wish for death.

"No."

"What?" went the Gadgeteer and I in unison.

"I said no. I 'ad no intention of killing you. I didn't even want to take from you. I tried to ask for the pieces nicely, but you refused me, and in turn refused to save everyone I care about. I'm sorry you dealt with horrible Brits in the past. I know some of us are awful. I've dealt with the same ones myself, and I despise them and their selfishness. But that's not every Brit. That's not me. I know better."

The man stood there, face crushed against the wall while I stood there aghast. "But Oliver, surely he will contact the Mits and Assassins once we leave. They will know that we didn't die, and be on our trail more than ever."

"Then let the bloody Mits come!" He pulled the knife away from the Gadgeteer's throat, pointing it to the floor in determination. "Let them all come! I am tired of them, and their reign. I refuse to kill a man with the same beliefs as me, after all he's been through. All I want-" He cut himself off for a moment, voice choking up suddenly. "All I ever wanted, was to protect myself and the people close to me, and they 'ave done everything in their power to take that from me. No more."

With that, he pulled himself off of the man, slipping the pistol out of his hand as he did so. He pointed it at the man. "Though I'm better with a knife, I know how to use this. Get back in your bed. I know you'll send the Mits after us, but just remember I spared your life. You will wait until the morning. Understood?"

The man made no reply, but as he eyed up the pistol, he slinked back into his room, locking and bolting the door. Turning to me, Oliver grasped my hand lightly, but as he caught sight of my leg, his arm swept across my back until he was holding me under my shoulder and helping me to limp out the front door. A few rays of the rising sun graced my face, and I tried to focus on it as ringing filled my ears and a feeling like cotton filled my mind.

"Bloody hell," I could hear Oliver swearing next to me. "I should have told him to wait until the afternoon. It's already morning." Then, in spite of it all, I started to giggle like a small child, causing Oliver's gaze to flick over to me, looking highly concerned.

"What is it? Is everything all right?"

"It's... It's just that back there, when I got hurt, I thought... bloody hell, which I would normally never think. I was wondering where it came from... and I must have gotten it from you. You... are a bad influence." With that, my laughter started again.

"I'll have to lay you down soon. You're acting like a madman."

🗝

I hadn't realized the extent of my fatigue until I felt the ground feeling like the softest bed I had ever laid upon as Oliver helped me down. Though the world was dark, and Oliver's voice had become soft in my state, I could still feel the cooling touch of water being poured down my calf, and from there the soft structure the bandages provided as they were wrapped around the wound. As a wet bandage was placed across my forehead, my senses came rushing back. First was Oliver saying, "Eva, how are you feeling?" and the second was the sight of him close to my face, his own freckled one scrunched up in worry.

"What? It's just a scratch. I'm sure it will be fine," I replied, noticing that we were back in a narrow, overgrown alley.

"It was quite a deep scratch," he mentioned, pulling himself back only to laye next to me, continuing to gaze into my eyes, concerned.

"I will be fine, so long as I can sleep now. I am utterly exhausted." Truth be told, I could barely even turn my head to look at him, much less move the rest of my tired body. "I am going to try to go through with the surgery tonight, so I will need to be rested for that."

"I promise that this place will be safe for you to sleep. I'll protect you."

"Thank you." A small, sleepy smile spread across my face at his words. "I appreciate that."

"It's nothing," he whispered in response. "Now sleep." I saw his hand make a small motion to my head, but it seemed that halfway through, he decided against whatever he had been trying to do, and instead pulled it back. Something about the softness of his stare lulled me, and I found myself able to easily slip into a deep slumber.