The Aviatrix
Flash fiction time!
On twitter some time ago, I was talking with Huskyteer and the word "aviatrix" came up. It conjured an idea of her as a steampunk-styled supervillain. A gentlewoman thief. Well, I had to write it down sooner or later.
"We got her cornered this time. Faster, men," belted a boorish looking old bulldog. Far up above, a trio of police dirigibles converged onto the museum, shining bright searchlights all over it. The roads were swarming with constables, running with one hand holding their bobbies on tight and the other clutched round the butt of their revolvers.
A terrier ran up to the bulldog. "Chief inspector..." He gasped for breath.
"Have you set up the perimeter?" The bulldog demanded.
"Yes, sir, chief inspector." The terrier straightened and tried to finish his report. "We saw her plane in the area half an hour ago. On a hunch, I had the place staked out. She was sighted inside, and that's when we contacted you. My boys haven't seen anyone go in or out since. Last we received word from the dirigibles, she had been on the rooftop." All around him, the rest of the chief inspector's team had knelt in a defensive position, revolvers trained on the building, for all the good it would do.
"Excellent, excellent." The bulldog pulled out a cigar, lit it, took a few puffs, and continued. "I'll take a few boys in to finish it from here. I want to put the cuffs on her myself." He took a step towards the museum and paused. "Don't you worry, sargeant. I may get the credit in the papers, but I'll make sure you get a promotion for this."
"Thank you, sir!" The terrier looked so excited he just might faint. His tail was wagging behind him as fast as the propeller of a plane.
The bulldog pointed to a few of his best and motioned them to follow him into the museum. It was dark and grimy inside, but the chief inspector didn't care. He made immediately for the stairs and towards the roof, letting his men go first, in case she was armed.
Up top, the air was cool, the Thames was quietly rumbling in the distance, the thrum of dirigibles was high above him, and six barrels were all pointed at the same grinning husky, who leaned against the edge of the roof. The chief inspector took a puff from his cigar. Oh, it was such a good day. He took his time. Savored the moment. It was his first time seeing her up close.
The husky wore what he would have called a modified dirigiblist's suit. She even had a set of goggles hanging loosely around her neck. A wrapped package was in her hands (that must have been the pearl, he reasoned) and she had a large backpack strapped tightly across her back. The bulldog glanced to the side as a fluttering motion caught his eye. The discarded remains of a parachute was there. "The Great Aviatrix, they call you. The ingenious thief behind a dozen heists."
"That you know about," the husky interjected. Her voice was smooth, almost aristocratic.
He coughed. "How many more have their been?"
"Oh, no, no, no," she chided. "I do not want to make your job too easy."
The bulldog bristled. She was treating him like an insolent child. "At least tell me your name. I want to have something to tell the papers."
"I am afraid I must refuse."
"I'll find out eventually."
"I do not think you will." Her smile had widened across her entire face. She was... She was wagging. The impudence of it all.
"You're trapped!" the chief inspector roared, his patience at an end. "You have nowhere to go. The building is surrounded. If you come quietly, the judge might be lenient."
The husky laughed and rose to her feet. With one hand she pulled the goggles up over her eyes. "Do you think they call me the Aviatrix because I enter on a plane? Oh no. That's wrong. Quite wrong."
The bulldog chomped at the end of his cigar. "What are you doing?"
"Leaving," she said simply and with a pull of a hidden lever, the pack on her back burst apart at the seams as a massive pair of wings unfurled themselves, extending themselves to a full 12 foot wingspan.
Most of the constable gaped in awe, but one cocked his revolver.
"No, you fool!" The bulldog shouted, seeing his career flash before his eyes. "You might hit the pearl."
The husky slowly spun round. "Ta-ta, chief inspector. Til next time." She took a three-step start and launched herself into the air. One of the constables had tried to catch her, but only ended up tripping.
The bulldog, eyes smoldering, chomped straight through the cigar. As the Aviatrix's laughter filled the air, he rounded on his men. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get after her!"
The men scrambled and the bulldog walked slowly to the edge of the roof, thinking how he was going to explain this to his superiors. Perhaps he could turn this into an opportunity, how the London police needed more resources than a few dirigibles. He smiled to himself. The London Police Aeronautical Unit had a nice ring to it. Yes, and enemy number one: the Aviatrix.