Marie Antoinette glided gracefully forward, her cannon spewing death. The intricate creatures shattered apart, their insides exploding in bursts of tiny gears and springs as the slugs tore through their heavy armor.

“Unexpected element present,” Babbage remarked, “Introducing appropriate countermeasure.”

Something vaulted the walls of Versailles. The figure’s mount was a steel horse two stories tall, its eyes spewing fire as a blast furnace raged in its steel chest. The rider bent low in the saddle, holding a sword like a sharpened steel girder, and decapitated Marie in one slice.

King Richard Lionheart reigned his steed and lifted his visor. “Headshot,” he quipped.

The air crackled as three figures appeared. Lincoln and the Autoviathan charged the clockwork army, while Musashi faced Richard and drew the longer of his two blades. Electricity crackled from the gauntlets he wore and ran up the blade as he lowered himself into a ready stance. Richard turned his mount and started to charge…