The Cathedral of the Lords of the Crimson Dawn, creation of Rasputin, source to Mecha Hitler’s magical defenses, was crashing down around Lincoln. He bounded over to Nicola Tesla’s suspension chamber and removed it from the cradle. Tesla’s face was in anguish as the oxygen levels faltered within the container.

“Rasputin’s evil form has perished from this plane, my friend. We must depart for Earth to seek your repair, and once you are fit, we shall emancipate the verse from Mecha Hitler.” Lincoln said, his gloves sparking to life.

“No,” croaked a suffocating Tesla, “I seek only rest with my eternal love in Versailles.”

Lincoln obeyed his wishes, teleporting them onto the French palace grounds. The place was remarkably tidy for the site of such an epic battle.

“Oh, mon dieu!” a raspy voice bubbled. Marie Antoinette, resurrected by spiderbots, floated in her suspension chamber on board an extravagantly dressed Autoviathan.

“He needs your help!” Lincoln said, holding up Tesla’s lifeless floating head.