Disclaimer: I own nothing.


"Oi, be careful out there, all right?"

Deryn's voice echoed in the back of Alek's head as he exited the taxi. He was standing in the farthest corner of Alexanderplatz, the Rotes Rathaus casting deep shadows across the people hurrying past.

They carried loaves of bread and canned goods in their arms, as well as unused ration cards they quickly stuffed into their pockets.

None of them dared to bump into him though, his fake uniform speaking for itself. That made his passage across his darkening surroundings much faster. It was the first time he'd passed through a crowd this fast without Deryn there to help him, actually.

Soon, he was craning his neck to look around him, his eyes flitting across hundreds of people's heads to where walkers were all located. Most of the walkers the soldiers used to patrol the city were old models, their rusted gears not equipped for fast movement. And Alek was sure they would need to move very fast for them to escape this one.

After a minute or so of horrid, rusted walkers Alek's eyes landed on a suitable one. It was a Gorgon, its surface dented from past skirmishes.

The Gorgon was made just a year before the Great War began and was slower than an average Stormwalker, but had much more space and weaponry. It would be perfect. A bit slower, but more than enough weapons, and enough metal to shield them from any sort of attack the Germans would risk firing in their most populated area.

The only problem was how to get it. If you were given the best walker out of the older, partially broken down models, then that had to mean that you were important; at least a little. And Alek was certain there would be more than one soldier manning that walker. The least would be three, and those three would've trained on a real battle ground.

Yes, he could use the sabre they'd stolen, but fencing could hardly help you when there were three armed men firing at you.

He was about to scan for something less dangerous when a little boy brushed his elbow, his high-pitched voice singing a German song. The fabricated beast Gillis had stuck to his elbow buzzed at the contact. He recalled what the woman had said when she attached it onto him hours ago: "This beastie is called an Epinephrine Beetle. It'll help you get out of sticky situations."

She'd given him a very brief explanation of how the beetle sucked up a host's blood and injected it back as Epinephrine when the host felt provoked. It all sounded very unlikely to Alek, but what she'd said burned into his mind. Help? How? All it'd done was sting whenever it touched something particularly hard.

It was his chance to find out, then.

The sky was slowly darkening into dusk when Alek crossed to where the Gorgon sat. He was glad it was in a particularly unoccupied area, in front of an old park. The approaching darkness was a good thing too, as he would blend in better among the shadows.

Alek looked up to the viewport, his stomach twisting when he saw they were fully opened. Before his fear could make him think twice, he weaved underneath the walker's legs and looked up to the entry hatch.

It was closed, as expected. Laughter and voices leaked from the metal walls, the voices suggesting that there were four men inside.

His shaking hand wrapped around the few smoke bombs Gillis had thrust into his pocket hours earlier. They weren't particularly dangerous, but had left anyone exposed to it just a bit dizzier and prone to falling into a deep sleep. Alek had chosen not to ask Gillis what she'd put in them.

He made his way behind the walker, deeper into the shadows the two buildings provided and tied a cloth around his nose and mouth. When he was sure no one was looking, he pulled out a Wonderlite lighter and three smoke bombs. With one soft click, a flame leaped out and he lit three fuses before stepping right under the Gorgon's belly.

Jumping up to wrap a hand around the entry hatch, Alek glanced at the thinning crowd a final time before the hatch pulled open. Two soldiers with their metal masks pulled to the top of their heads looked down curiously at him before diving for the ground when the smoke bombs flew into the gunners' cabin.

A moment after the bombs landed, he slammed the hatch shut. Curses and panicked shouts made their way through the walker's belly as the smoke bombs exploded, the men inside banging their fists against the hatch.

His arms were just about to give way when the noise slowly died down, smoke seeping feebly from the walls. Alek pulled the hatch open and scrambled into the gunner's cabin, his heart fluttering.

The smoke was thick and noxious by the time he'd climbed in, causing his eyes to sting and fill with tears. He flinched as a disoriented soldier lost consciousness inches from where he was.

Climbing up into the pilot's cabin, Alek spotted two more soldiers waiting up there, their shapes muddled in the smoke. Alek felt a sigh of relief when he noticed that one of them was not wearing a mask; the smoke would make him weary in no time.

Before lifting his head up, he placed a hand on where Bovril was sleeping beneath his clothes, hoping the beastie wouldn't be able to inhale much of the smoke. "This'll take just a minute."

Alek took a rattling breath before pulling himself up and over, his form still hidden. Eyes watering, he focused on the moving shape of a soldier reaching up to open the viewport. A lump formed in his throat as he pulled his hunting knife from its sheath. His arm paused for a second to aim before he saw it slice through the smoke briefly, all those hours practicing with Deryn finally paying off.

It landed with a sharp thud against the man's shoulder, his legs staggering, but not yet falling over. Disappointment washed over Alek in waves: of course it wouldn't work.

He felt fear rush through him when the beastie buzzed painfully against his elbow. A sharp clang echoed through the walker's metal hull as Alek stumbled backwards and landed hard on the opposite wall. His breathing had gone ragged, the breaths coming only a few times now.

Pain shot through his body in quick bursts. His hands scrambled for his sleeve, the fabric almost ripping as he rolled them up to expose the Epinephrine beetle stuck to his elbow. The beastie had grown twice as large since the last time he'd seen it, the wrinkles that covered its body smoothening out as it filled its system up with blood.

Alek paled at the sight.

He looked up at the scrambling shapes, glad that they weren't able to see him though the smoke. Their voices were shaking as one of them gave stumbling orders. Alek's ears couldn't process their words as the buzzing took over his whole body.

Spasms ran up his arms and legs, making his fingers and toes curl. He could barely see as one of the men climbed down to the gunner's cabin, blood burning in his veins.

Then suddenly it all stopped. His vision blurring slightly as he jumped up to run straight for the man about to pull the distress cord, his arm unsheathing the fencing sabre.

"Was den –?"

Faster than what he was normally capable of, Alek thwacked the dulled edge at the man's side, his outstretched hand letting go of the distress cord before he managed to pull it. Almost immediately, the man's hands landed on the empty slot where his pistol should've been. His eyes widened.

Alek saw through a blurry haze the soldier's face pale as he reached for his own sabre instead. He heard the man say something, but whatever the beastie had injected into him was making his hearing fuzzy. Even the German they'd spoken he couldn't understand.

Taking up a simple stance, Alek poised for attack and sent the sabre's blade swishing through the air. It barely missed the man's arm. Alek tensed, his head trying to gain control over his straining arms before attacking again.

The fight lasted for longer than they both expected, sweat slicking up their palms. Alek felt the handle of his sabre beginning to slip out of his grip as he fought. This needed to end quickly; he could feel his body growing weaker the longer it lasted.

Weaving out of a potentially fatal hit, Alek twisted his arm and brought it to the man's leg. The blade grazed the soldier's thigh, the fabric of his pant leg growing red with blood. A pained scream filled Alek's ears as the man repositioned, favouring his wounded leg.

Eyes flitting, Alek spotted an opening soon after, stepping up to bang the handle of his sabre against the man's temple. But the manoeuvre had consequences, and the soldier was able to nick Alek's back with his sabre before falling unconscious.

Alek breathed a sigh of relief as he let the man fall to the floor; the hormones that fabricated beetle produced slowly running out of his system.

Help out indeed. Alek felt his arms shake with the sudden exertion, the wound at his back stinging.

His legs protested, but he pulled himself up onto his feet, picking up his hunting knife as he stood. Alek's eyes wandered to where the wounded man laid, the blood on his pant leg slowly leeching into the floor. He was older than Alek expected, probably a few years before he would be able to retire.

The smoke was thinning by then, and Alek pulled the cloth from his face, wiping stray tears that ran down his face.

"W-was machst du?" The words sent Alek spinning around. He'd forgotten about the soldier that descended into the gunner's cabin.

A soldier was huddled beneath him, his knocked out comrades were littered about him, their prone forms barely breathing. A mask covered half of his face, leaving his wide eyes fully exposed. He held a pistol in his other hand.

"Alright, no sudden movements; I won't hurt you." Alek stumbled over the German words. He fought to keep the fear from showing, he didn't want to get the beetle stuck to his skin injecting him again.

"You killed him! You killed Gorman." The man's eyes were staring at the bleeding soldier at Alek's feet.

"No, no, he isn't dead."

The soldier seemed entranced at the sight of his commander bested in a fight though, and did not respond. After the failed attempt at knife-throwing, Alek couldn't trust himself to throw the hunting knife at the man before the other managed to pull the trigger.

Instead, he regarded him carefully before climbing down into the gunner's cabin. He kept his eyes locked to the shaking hand that held the pistol as he slowly kneeled beside the man.

He'd seen people get into fits like these before, too shocked to do anything. It was very good luck on Alek's part, but most people recovered from the initial shock after a few minutes, and Alek didn't want to get himself shot because of it.

"Would you like to get up? You can help me bandage up Mr. Gorman." Setting down the sabre, Alek felt around for his knife. He slipped it into his sleeve.

Shuffling closer, Alek wrapped an arm around the man pulled him to his feet, stooping as he led them to Mr. Gorman. He heard the clatter of metal as the soldier dropped the gun.

A sigh of relief was about to escape from his mouth. "Where do you keep your First Aid equipment?"

He turned to face the soldier and was surprised to find that the other man was staring at him intently. Alek met his eyes and saw the recognition flash in his stare. Cold daggers sprung up along his spine.

"You're the traitor, the Austrian prince who sided with the Darwinists!" The man's voice was weak and muffled by the mask, but anger was bubbling in his eyes.

Alek raised a shaking hand to his temple; yellow rivulets of sweat coated his gloved hands. The dye was almost fully washed out of his hair, rust coloured strands falling into his eyes. He felt his grip loosen slightly.

"Traitor!" the soldier yelled then dove for the ground, his fingers scrabbling for the pistol.

He was wrapping a hand around it when Alek tackled him back to the ground. The air knocked out of his lungs the moment they collided, the gun sliding across the floor and lodging itself underneath the boot of his knocked out comrade.

Most or all of the hormones the beetle had injected into Alek's system was gone by then, and he relied on his own strength as he tried to pin the man down. The man didn't back down though, his fist connecting with Alek's face.

The world turned sideways as the punch rocked his whole upper body. Stars erupted across his vision, everything coming back into focus in a few seconds. He spent a good two seconds in a jarred silence as a bruise slowly formed across his cheek. The silence broke when he saw the soldier trying to disentangle himself from underneath him.

A swear escaped Alek's lips, his arms struggling to tighten their hold as he aimed a panicked kick at the man's gut. The soldier let out a wheeze before his grip loosened slightly.

The knife fell into Alek's palm easily, his fingers twirling it once so that the handle faced the soldier. With one quick thump to the temple the man was lying limp on the floor.


A/N: Yeah! I've wanted to write a really long fight scene for this fic since I'd started writing it, and I really wanted Alek to show off his fencing skillz. :D

Oh, and I hope you all liked the Gorgon and Epinephrine Beetles. This account's co-owner (a.k.a. my little sister) helped me work out how the beetles work, so that's pretty cool. And the Gorgon's name, like the Cyklop Stormwalker, comes from Greek Mythology and is a woman with snakes as hair and have tusks and whiskers.

That's all I have to say about this chapter, so don't forget to review!