THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE

By Andamogirl

Author's note: season 2.

Episode tag. This story takes place right after the end of "The night of the cadre". References to the following episodes: "The night of the howling light, "The night of the lord of limbo" & "The night of the cadre".

References to my stories TNOT Deadly Showboat & TNOT Mermaid.

Artie: "Ohhh, the noble horse, man's best friend. (sees Jim kissing Veda) Well, maybe second best."

TNOT Golden Cobra.

Dr. Loveless: Allow me to introduce myself, sir. I am Dr. Miguelito Loveless. I plead guilty to being dictatorial, vain, short-tempered, occasionally unreasonable, and always... always a helpless admirer of all that is rare and fine in nature and art. But mad... no sir, that I will not permit.

TNO Miguelito's Revenge.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

Warnings: graphic violence (electrocution & torture, kind of) & major character temporary death.

WWW

TEASER

Miguelito Loveless's hideout, somewhere.

Dr. Miguelito Quixote Loveless let out an irritated groan and then, "No! No! No! And NO!" He pivoted on his stool and crossed his arms on his chest like a frustrated child. "I tried everything! Eve-ry-thing! And nothing works properly! Like I want." He said, scowling.

Belladonna seated on an armchair, next to the coffee table lowered the book she was reading to her knees and frowned. "What is it Miguelito? Can't you make that knock-out gas formula?"

Loveless glared at his new 'favorite', feeling affronted and pressed his mouth into a tight line. "I'm a master in chemistry, my dear. Of course I can make that formula, but there's still a lot of smoke and it smells bad, and for what I have planned to do, I want my fast acting and long action knock-out gas to be colorless and odorless. I don't want it to be detected, it's absolutely vital." Drumming his fingers impatiently on the long table, he stared absently at all the vials, beakers, flasks, test tubes, etc. of his large chemist set, searching for a solution, and after long minutes of reflection, he found one. He beamed and snapped his fingers with a joyful expression. "I've got it! I've just found the solution, Belladonna, my dear, and it's brilliant!

Belladonna smiled. "Like you are. I knew that you would find something, Miguelito."

Loveless chuckled. "More like someone, Belladonna. There's someone who knows a great deal about knock-out gas formulas besides me and he's going to help me - against his will, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "You don't know him yet, Belladonna, I mean you don't know him personally because I told you about him many times, but soon you will meet Mr. Artemus Gordon in flesh and blood. Of course, his famous partner James West will accompany him. They're virtually inseparable; they're like conjoined-twins." The little man rubbed his long hands together with glee. "That's perfect! They will both die – I don't know how yet, but I will find something… I have a lot of imagination. But they will die after Mr. Gordon had helped me, of course, and they will die slowly and painfully, that I know."

The young blond woman grinned. "I'm sure that you will find something inventive, worthy of your exceptional talent. But first you have to find them Miguelito, they are special agents working for the Government, and they could be anywhere in the country, it won't be easy to locate them."

Loveless nodded. "Finding them will take some time, yes, but I have informants in the whole country. It's just a matter of time before I locate them, my dear."

Belladonna smiled, impressed, and closed the book on her lap. "You're formidable Miguelito. You're a genius!" she said.

Loveless nodded. "I know that."

He smiled like a crocodile, his eyes glittering with wickedness.

WWW

The Wanderer

James West was making coffee in the galley when the train braked abruptly, again, in a concert of squeaking noises, slowing down to take on water in the next reservoir.

He found himself being propelled against the bulkhead, hard and hit his head. At the same time he heard a thud coming from the parlor car. "Artie", he said in worry.

Rubbing his head, he abandoned what he was doing, and rushed into the narrow walkway.

Pushing the swinging door opening into the parlor, he discovered his partner lying on his side, on the carpeted floor, still sleeping soundly and lightly snoring, knocked-out by his new odorless and colorless knock-out gas formula, he had accidently tested on himself a few minutes ago.

Smiling, Jim knelt beside the older man and prodded at his head to see if he had any injuries and thankfully found none.

He raised the chair that had fallen along with his best friend, and then he hoisted Artemus Gordon onto the nearest couch.

He chuckled softly. "There, like this you won't fall on the floor again," he said. He covered his best friend with the coverlet up to his shoulders and added, "Good night Artie, sleep well, buddy."

He patted his partner's shoulder with affection and then he headed back to the galley. A cup of coffee then I'll be off to bed, he thought.

WWW

The next morning

Artemus was still sleeping when James entered the parlor car the next morning. Jim noticed that Artie had moved on his side during the night and he was now facing the backrest of the couch, head buried in the pillow. The coverlet was lying, abandoned, on the carpeted floor.

Picking it up Jim shook his best friend's shoulder. "Hi Artie, raise and shine pal. You have breakfast to prepare, and I'm very hungry." He placed the coverlet on the back of a chair and sat on it. "Come one buddy. It's 0710 already; it's time to wake up."

Stirring, Artie moaned and rolled onto his back slowly. Pain shot through his head, making him wince. He hissed and brought his hands to his face. The morning sun coming through the windows was blinding him. "Oh boy! I have a mother of a painful headache and I have a bit of nausea too." He moved his hands aside and groggily opened his eyes, his vision blurred. "Ooooh!" he whimpered, a grimace on his face.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the golden morning light, he blinked a few times, forcing his eyes to focus and then he realized he was lying on a couch, in the parlor car, and that Jim was standing beside him, smirking.

He frowned, confused. "Hiya, Jim, good morning. What am I doing here? Why am I not in my bed? Was I drunk last night?" He blinked, trying to remember something, but nothing popped up in his blank mind. "Because I don't remember anything. Did I enjoy myself? The girls were pretty?... That would explain why I have a hangover from hell and... what did I do to deserve that smirk?" He scrunched his face in shame, feeling humiliated. "Oh dear God! Did I start to sing and dance in front of people?"

Jim shook his head. "No, but I like when you do that Artie! But it's very rare though, because you handle your liquor very well. You can drink two bottles of cheap whiskey without being even slightly drunk." He chuckled and added, "You weren't drunk last night and don't have any hangover Artie, well, at least not a liquor-induced hangover, but a sleeping gas-induced hangover."

Blinking slowly, confused again, Artie asked, "What are you talking about?"

Pulling up a chair beside the couch, Jim sat and explained, "You accidently tested your own knock-out gas formula on yourself last night. It works perfectly; believe me – thus the smirk, because it was funny. You were talking to me and then, in a wink of an eye, you were sleeping, in front of your transportable chemistry set. Your knock out gas formula is odorless and colorless and acts very quickly. You were out cold in less than 10 seconds. I carried you to the couch and you slept like a log the whole night long."

Running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, Artie smiled weakly. "My formula is working. That's good news!" He rubbed his pounding temples after that and sighed, frustrated. "But I don't remember how I did it. That means I'm going to have to do all my chemical experiments all over again. I hope I took some notes… but I always do." He massaged his aching neck. "Ow!"

As Jim stood up Artie swung his legs off the couch and sat down again, feeling dizzy, and he felt his muscles and joints hurt. "Ow! Oh boy! I feel like the 7th cavalry had galloped over me, twice! Once on the way out, once on the way back."

Frowning in worry, Jim put the back of his hand against Artie's clammy forehead. The other man looked exhausted and his face was sweaty and flooded with color. "I believe you are running a fever Artie."

Furrowing his brow, Artie touched his burning forehead in his turn. "My knock-out gas formula doesn't make people sick, usually. Perhaps I was sick before that and didn't notice it. Now that I think of it, the man who rented me his vehicle – I brilliantly transformed into a carriage used to transport prisoners, and then in itinerant salesman's carriage – was very sick. I think he infected me." A fit of coughing overtook him, tightening his aching ribs like a vise. He pressed a shaking hand against his chest. "Damn! I think I caught something nasty, it's not just a bad headache, it's something else." Sweat prickled on the back of his neck. "I hope it's not the flu, but just a bad cold, otherwise I'm going to be stuck here for a while. And you too, partner. If it's the flu I have probably contaminated you Jim, I'm sorry."

Jim shook his head, noticing the tight lines of pain around Artie's eyes. "Nah, I'm fine. I'm never sick Artie, remember?"

Artemus slowly stood up, his head swimming. A long, painful cough scraped through his chest and throat. "I'm not feeling too well…" He pressed his palms over his eyes as his headache intensified then his sweaty hands came up to grasp his skull. "My head is splitting. Jim."

Jim nodded. "We should arrive in Kansas City in a couple of hours, Artie. Once there I'll fetch a doctor and bring him here."

Coughing violently, Artie shook his head. "No, there's no need… It's just a bad cold. I have everything in my lab to get rid of it. I make my own drugs, remember? I need to lie on my bed."

He got up from the couch, slowly, feeling his legs tremble, and the world swam around him. "Oh boy!" he let out, gritting his teeth, and he staggered to his feet. His muscles were aching and his joints throbbing. "I don't remember the Wanderer hitting me…" he wheezed, feeling miserable.

Immediately Jim caught Artemus's elbow and accompanied his best friend, as he swayed sideways dangerously, toward the swinging door.

Suddenly his knees buckled beneath him. With a whimper of distress, his whole body fell to the carpeted floor, nearly passing out.

Tbc.