No. 44's observation was abruptly interrupted as he witnessed the armada of airships releasing groups of smaller flying aircraft. These aerial formations, seemingly organized like a battalion, began to descend upon the ship. It was a formidable sight, with dozens of individual aircraft soaring through the sky in tight formation.
As the groups of smaller aircraft drew closer, No. 44 could discern the separation of some squadrons from the main formation. There was a clear intent behind their actions. They were planning to attack different areas of the ship, an expected tactic against a larger adversary. The enemies didn't appear to hesitate despite facing a larger target; instead, they intended to exploit the ship's size to their advantage.
The enemies seemed unfazed, unafraid to engage. A plausible strategy. By dispatching groups to cause damage in various sections of the ship, it would force us to divide our resources and focus on defense, which would make it difficult to launch a counterattack. It was a smart, straightforward, and practical approach. However, this type of strategy can be countered easily.
Prior to this attack, the enemy should have planned it carefully. They should have prioritized attacking areas of the ship that housed valuable or critical assets or exploited certain vulnerable points. Gathering such detailed information would require an inside source. Did they plant a rat? Or did they use a device to understand the interior of the ship? Without adequate information, their confidence in this strategy's success was questionable. It seemed unlikely they would attempt such an attack if they were lacking intel.
To No. 44's astonishment, one of these groups, consisting of twelve aircraft, broke away from the others and set a course directly toward the working area he was in. Each aircraft was piloted by a single individual, and the group of ships was in a 'V' formation with six on each side.
The approaching aircraft resembled sleek machines with polished brass and tarnished metal frames, detailed with gears, cogs, and piping. The motor vehicles were two-wheeled and had a compact frame with a front wheel and a rear wheel in line. The riders were straddling the aircraft, hands on tight hold onto the handlebars that served as the means for stirring and controlling the trajectory. Half of the engine was exposed, while the rest was covered in copper plates.
These unique vehicles roared through the air, powered by steam, leaving behind thick plumes of white vapor in their wake. The skilled pilots expertly maneuvered the contraptions. The speed was remarkable.
I wonder what purpose those wheels serve. I recall that wheels were often used in carriages in my world, and they were used to make travel by land easier. Do those wheels help generate the energy that allows these machines to move? And whenever I see machinery in this world, oftentimes steam and vapor always seem to accompany them. Perhaps the mechanism is related to that?
The vehicles they are using have a complex design and are only meant to be used by a single individual. The innovations in this world are truly unique. Where can I get one of these? I wish to break it open.
The soldiers who manned the aircraft were dressed in deep-crimson uniforms. Goggles were perched on their heads above a leather hat. They possessed tailcoat vests that fitted their bodies perfectly; they were complete with brass buttons and delicate embroidery. For their lower body, they wore loose brown trousers with a vertical striped pattern, held by belts with pouches for various tools and equipment essential for their tasks.
Rather than soldiers or combatants, they look more akin to jesters. Perhaps they dressed like this on purpose? For what purpose?
No. 44 decided to step back after a few seconds of observing, as he determined that the enemies would arrive soon. He chose discretion over confrontation and positioned himself back at his desk, wanting to blend in among the other puppets. It didn't take long before the enemy aircraft began to assault the ship's exterior. After a series of explosions, they have successfully breached an entrance into the office.
Although a hole had appeared in the ship, it didn't seem to cause much disruption. The gears, the cogwheels, pieces of debris, papers, and metals were getting sucked outwards as though there were a vacuum. The intruders effortlessly entered the area; they set their vehicles to the side, turned off the engines and got off. They grabbed their weapons and prepared themselves for an assault.
However, the expected battle didn't happen, and they were left confused for a few moments. Finally, they engaged in a brief dialogue among themselves. Their voices carried a bit of uncertainty as they spoke.
"I think we've entered the wrong one." The one who spoke was a male standing at six feet tall with a burly body and a noticeable scar on his left cheek. He took off his goggles and observed the area; "These are just white-collar dolls, they won't fight back."
"Dolls, huh? I've heard of them before," remarked another man, shorter but with a higher body mass. He spoke slowly and mispronounced some words. "I heard they have souls infused in them. Really creepy stuff right there."
The woman next to him with a ponytail, shorter sleeves, and muscular arms punched his gut. "Do you seriously believe in those rumors?" She gave a fake laugh. "Rookie, the Artificer is a real nut job but shit like souls?"
The Artificer? Is that who I think it is? Hm, it's not difficult to guess. However, they mentioned something about souls. I have heard of this term before, but I'm more inclined to call it 'spirit.' What is it truly? Is it similar to a spirit? That man mentioned that there could be souls infused in the puppets... souls.
Perhaps? That could be why I've found myself in this body. Is that also why I can see and hear but not feel pain, exhaustion, or hunger? The concept of the 'soul' is still new to me, and I find it hard to keep up with this sudden influx of information. Later, I must think about it more throughly, or I could try to find the Artificer and seek answers from him.
The group then decided to split up, with three of them remaining in the working area to search for valuable documents or information. The invaders moved with a mix of caution and urgency, unaware that No. 44, the silent observer, was taking note of their actions and conversation from his vantage point.
As one of the intruders drew nearer to No. 44's desk, searching the documents for anything important, the puppet seized an opportunity. Swiftly, No. 44 grasped a nearby fountain pen, its sharpened tip gleaming, and drove it into the exposed neck of the intruder, who lacked any protective armor or covering, making the penetration all too easy.
Aurghhh!
Blood gushed out from the wound, but it was not enough to kill the man. Thinking quickly, No. 44 retrieved the pen and attempted to stab the other again, but the intruder's reaction wasn't slow; he understood that his life was in danger, and his instincts kicked in as he pushed No. 44 away, drawing his steam-powered gun to retaliate. A bullet erupted from the gun's barrel, but unfortunately for him, No. 44's current form was a wooden puppet; he could not feel any pain even as the projectile pierced his artificial body.
He pressed on, landing another precise stab in quick succession. As he did, he pushed the man to the ground with his body weight and continued his assault. He withdrew the pen from the neck and precisely thrust it through the man's left eye. The intruder was growling in pain, his huffs were trembling, and his chest was expanding and contracting at a fast rate, as though he were struggling to breathe.
Seeing as he wasn't dead yet, No. 44 planned to land another strike, but by this time, the other two intruders had been alerted by the commotion and acted efficiently. They approached the puppet and opened fire on No. 44, but his lack of sensitivity to pain made him unresponsive to their attacks. In the midst of this turmoil, No. 44 seized the steam-powered gun from the grip of the intruder he had just attacked before running for cover.
He adeptly utilized the chaos of the situation, using the surrounding desks as cover. The onslaught sent papers flying, ink bottles exploding, and cubicle walls riddled with bullet holes. The continuous sound of gunfire echoed, and the noise it made as it hit something new was always different. He inspected the weapon he stole and remembered the actions that the intruders took when they used it.
He crawled under the cubicles and peeked through a corner. He aimed the firearm at an unsuspecting intruder who was in search of his location and fired a shot. The bullet, however, was deflected by the intruder's vest. In response, the two remaining assailants finally pinpointed No. 44's location and released a barrage of gunfire in his direction.
In the midst of the gunfire, No. 44 realized that he needed to regain the upper hand in the situation. To avoid the bullets, he retreated back under cubicles, his movements making subtle sounds. His mind raced, seeking an immediate solution amidst the chaos.
His gaze fell upon the ink bottle that had rolled to rest beside him. Without hesitation, he seized it and tossed it into the air. As if on cue, a hail of bullets from the remaining intruders shattered the bottle, and the tinkling sound of glass fragments hitting the floor served as a signal for No. 44.
Rolling to his side, he swiftly aimed his stolen gun at the nearest intruder, specifically targeting the unprotected head. The trigger was pulled, and the bullet pierced through the man's skull, causing it to disintegrate into a shower of gory fragments.
The last intruder, struck by the unexpected turn of events, could only manage to utter, "What the...!" before he too became a target. No. 44 quickly shifted to a different vantage point, fired the final shot, and brought the encounter to a conclusion.
As the intruder slumped to the floor, defeated and lifeless, he muttered in disbelief, "You were supposed to be a white-collar doll..." The room, now silent save for the lingering scent of gunpowder, finally returned to its peaceful state.
Hopefully, that wouldn't attract the attention of the other groups back in here. That should be unlikely since they believe that this room is just full of 'white-collar' dolls, which I assume is a term for dolls that do not have the capacity to retaliate. He thought as his eyes scanned the room where most of the puppets had returned to their cubicles, picking up papers and resuming their duties.
As he was contemplating what to do next, he heard some grunting from a distance.
Cough, cough!
He approached the intruder, who was lying on his back with a fountain pen stuck in his left eye. The man was choking on his own blood, and he was barely alive. Out of the three intruders, he was put through the most pain, but he was the only one who survived.
Hm. I apologize; I caught you off guard and you didn't have time to respond to my attack. I don't feel sorry for your other colleagues; they had plenty of time to get rid of me, yet they couldn't.
I wonder, once your are better, would you be able to satisfy even just a bit of my curiosity? Even if you can't speak later on, I still have many ways to learn from you. Perhaps I could break you open?
No. 44 tore a piece of cloth from the intruder's trousers and applied it to the wound on the man's neck. The injured man's condition was dire; he couldn't articulate a single word and could only groan in pain. After binding the man's wound, the puppet positioned himself behind the injured intruder's head. Gently, he raised the wounded man by slipping his arms under the man's armpits and slowly dragging him into his chamber.