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 Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 12:52 am
Colonel Addison Uriel Bruttenholm was not a happy man.
He had just spent the last hour standing at attention in an uncomfortable and ridiculous looking uniform in a hot office, all for the privilege of being yelled at by the Prime Minister. Anthony Edward Stark had spent half the time yelling behind a glass of scotch, and the other half with a particularly foul cigar clenched in his teeth. It seemed the man was bent on imitating the factories he loved so much, belching smoke and fumes at random.
"Colonel Broom, I can't have such dissension, and I WON'T have it, d'ya hear me?! This... this damnable Whore of Babylon is unsettling people, and worse, it's hurting the national production." He slapped the newspaper on his desk for the twentieth time, scowling at the artist's print of a stunning young woman in outlandish get-up. Stark paused for another sip of scotch. "I trust you understand what must be done?"
He had nodded, blank-faced. "I'll see to it, sir." And with a nod and a gesture of his cigar, Stark had dismissed him.
Addison stalked out of the office, hooves clacking on the marble, tail twitching. Col. Broom was not a happy man. Some would say he wasn't even a man.
Standing at seven feet, he was bright red, had hooves and a tail, and a stone right hand. Once he had horns, but those had been amputated long ago, leaving only stumps he had to file periodically. Anything to keep up appearances, to better fit in with the crowd.
Wearing his hated dress uniform, he fumed silently all the way back to his own office, a sky-cab and a brisk walk away. It was a much simpler affair, a good solid desk, shelves of books, and a comfy chair being the major components. He changed quickly into his 'working clothes', the regular uniform of Her Majesty's Irregular Regiment. At last he could think. He could plan.
----
Two days later, he hurried down an alley, following closely behind one of his men. Dressed in plainclothes, he paused on the edge of the alleyway, looking into a market courtyard.
There in the middle of the yard was a hastily erected platform, and on it a woman was making a very passionate speech of some sort. Her bright red hair blended stunningly with a revealing geisha outfit- it was hard to tell whether the crowd was paying rapt attention to her words, or her looks. Addison looked down at the newspaper clipping, confirming that the Whore of Babylon was the woman on the stage. He sighed, and nodded to his underling, who raced off again. He really didn't like this. He and his men were meant to protect, not censor, but Stark's previous attempts to arrest the Whore had ended cataclysmically for the government. It was time to call in the big guns, he had said. Addison scowled. Bloody Stark.
The Whore seemed to be coming to her point- or at least her gesticulations had become more fervent, her words louder. Addison had to hope that his men had taken suitable position in the short time he'd given them.
Colonel Addison Uriel Broom was not a happy man. But he stepped out into the light anyway and began striding for the stage.
"This is the military police! You are all under arrest!
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 1:42 am
Fifteen minutes ago
Pamela sat in the back of her coach, while her young assistant Harley applied the greasepaint to her face, the base layer of the make up for her Whore of Babylon personal.
"I don't prop'ly understand this cake business, missus Babbage," Harley intoned in her painfully native cockney, "Innit supposed to be what we're tryin' to stop?"
"Isn't it, Harley dear, and yes. It's ironic, we're using the tools of the oppressor against Him in order to show Him that we are not daunted by his efforts to keep Woman bound in servitude."
"I don't mean no disrespect missus Babbage, but if all of your big words are makin' my crown hurt, I don't think that lot out there'll do any better."
Harley set the greasepaint down and moved on to the garish rouge dots to adorn Pamela's cheeks in imitation of the Japanese Geisha.
"It isn't for them, dear. It's for the powdered wigs in Government. The savantry, the gentry, and any other tree you care to name quake in their lacquered boots at the prospect of our vision of a pure society so hard they cannot muster the clarity to realize that your average cove hasn't the first idea of where Babylon is. Fear is the surest means to overthrow reason, Harley."
"I don't know bout that missus Babbage, I seen with me own two eyes how them coves howl when your dress slips."
Now
They'll howl a lot louder at this, Pamela thought as her speech was interrupted by the colonel's shouting and the cacophony of police whistles that followed it. She pursed her lips and closed her parasol, slapping the butt end of it, a trigger springing free from it's hiding place in the bamboo shaft. She hefted the umbrella and sighted down the length of it, firing at the nearest copper. A deafening bang issued from the end of the umbrella and the copper was blown backwards off his feet, blood spraying in all directions. Pamela kicked off her wooden sandals and leaped from the stage, waiting until she landed to crack the shaft open and eject the spent shell, still smoking.
She was instantly surrounded by two of her best men, who began to escort her at a run to the waiting coach while the riot made good their escape.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 3:04 am
Near a dark alley in London there was a small run down bar where people from all walks of life met. It was said in Titans Corner all sorts of whispers from different groups could be heard. It was here that Cass worked as a bartender. She poured out a drink for a loyal robotic customer while on the news a broadcast about illegal robots was playing. The customer not liking the program, started talking to Cass .
" I swear if I hear anymore about these illegal robots I'm gonna make these government guys bite my shiny metal.."
Suddenly Tim another worker at the bar locked the door the sounds of whistles and police could be heard as Tim signaled for everyone in the bar to be quiet for he knew not all of the bar's patrons were loyal law-bidding citizens. Cass's eyes narrowed..
"They're chasing someone. I don't think they are coming in here."
Tim looked over at her.
"With these guys Cass you never know. We should just wait for now and see what happens."
Cass nodded and continued to serve customers.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 10:14 am
A man, wearing a large, bulky overcoat, walked into the bar. His face was obscured by a rather large scarf and his wide brimmed hat was pulled down so just his eyes were visible. Through the obscuring shroud, it looked at though he were wearing some brightly colored lenses of some sort.
Making his way to the bar, he chose to take a seat at one of the corners, sitting so his body was not facing forward, but rather back toward to interior of the bar. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a note pad of some sort and began making scribbles of some sort. Had anyone been paying particular attention to his actions, they might have noticed he wasn't writing letters, but rather marking a series of oddly spaced squares as he looked at the people in the bar.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 1:48 pm
10 minutes ago
Victor, wearing his duster and wide brimmed fedora stood near a wooden stage scribbling notes in a journal on The Whore of Babylon's speech. He would need them for tomorrows paper. He had been writting and these people seem to have been listening, it put a small grin on his face as he wrote. The Whore of Babylon had a similar message he had though they certainly had their differences. He wanted to make sure her voice was heard as well.
1 min ago
As he heard, "You are all under arrest!" Victor had already gotten to the back of the opposite side of the croud. He would be one of the last to get away he knew. His curiosity often got the best of him and he wanted to have all the facts when he started writing later. He could tell by the voice it was the governments pet, "Coronlel Broom", coming and he knew this was going to be interesting. He slid what he considered his true face out of his bag and pushed a hidden button on his belt buckle, sending a strange yellow gas into the air and binding the mask to his face. Then he heard the gun shot.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 3:14 pm
Ten Minutes ago...
Standing just inside of Big Ben, Captain R.J. Brande of Her Majesty's Royal Legion went over notes with his cohort.
"Now, whatsoever you do, Mr. Norg, do not stare. He is a cantankerous enough eccentric as it is, and if you ogle him, he's sure to be put out."
Captain Brande puffed out his chest and adjusted the many medals that were part of his standard dress as the young man copied down notes.
"Don't...stare..."
"And don't touch anything. The last secretary I brought in here with me shattered a cathode tube, and there was no doing with him for the rest of the day."
The young man nodded and wrote furiously again.
"Touch...nothing..."
"And let me do all of the talking. There is a great deal of politics involved in this, my lad, and it is best to let those with...political savvy, as it were, do business."
The young man nodded, and touched pencil to paper again.
"Say...nothing. I've got it, Captain. Anything else?"
The older man twisted a corner of his blanched moustache and led the younger man forward.
"Just one thing-mind your step for the monkey."
"The monk-?!"
Young Mr. Norg did not get to finish his line of query as Captain Brande moved forward, henceforth ignoring his subordinate as if he were invisible. The two of them walked up several dozen flights of twisting, rather rickety staircase inside of the enormous clock tower. Mr. Norg was in awe of the size of the cogs and wheels turning slowly but surely around them.
He flipped open his notebook and scribbled down a quick note.
"Truly an awesome spectacle, a sterling example of our Industrial Age."
At last, they reached the top of the stairs...a small door cut into the false ceiling that blocked off the area behind the faces of the mighty clock itself from the rest of the tower's guts. Raising his cane, Captain Brande rapped on the door.
"KOKO! THE DOOR!"
A shriek and the scraping sound of the latch on the other side of the door lifting emitted from the room. Captain Brande swung the door open, and he and Norg were greeted by the sight of a small monkey hanging on the knob, pointing at them and shrieking.
"KOKO! ENOUGH!"
At the barked command, the monkey let go of the door and lithely lept off out of Norg's path of vision. Brande, ignoring Norg again, strode forward to a figure bent over a tilted draftsman's table.
"Captain Brande. You are EARLY."
"Tut tut, Master Docks," Brande admonished as he picked his way past the dozens of springs, sprockets and cogs piled in seemingly random combinations on the floor. "There's a curfew, you know. Everyone makes it an early day."
The figure at the table straightened up and turned around. Massive magnification goggles covered most of his face, and wild blonde hair shot in every which direction, pouring out of the top of the glasses.
"You are SEVEN DAYS early, Captain Brande! Please tell me that while I am busy creating THE FUTURE in here, some beaurocratic GIT hasn't seen fit to rearrange the work week."
Brande surpressed a chuckle of a surprisingly demeaning nature.
"You know that random inspections are due to take place without prior warning, Master Docks. We simply want to ensure that your progress is moving forward as projected."
The young man whipped off his goggles, and Norg, who had been transcribing the conversation diligently, dropped his pencil.
"Cor blimey!"
Docks swung around and looked Norg straight in the eyes.
"Yes?"
"Well...you're green!"
"And YOU are a gape-mouthed, goggle-eyed window-licker!"
Brande stepped between the two of them.
"Master Docks..."
"Oh, MY APOLOGIES, I thought we were having a 'state the bleedingly obvious' contest." The young man, indeed green-hued in skin, tugged off the rubber gloves he was wearing and threw them at Norg's face. "I thought that it had been made perfectly clear when I was relocated to SEVERAL MILES HIGH OF NOWHERE, that I was NOT the bloody circus side-show spectacle up here, Captain Brande!"
"I-I'm sorry, I-I-"
"I-I-I" Docks mocked his stuttering, kicking over a pile of cogs. "I cannot work in these conditions, Brande! Do you want BRILLIANCE?! Or do you want to perch me on top of a dunking tank so that the gap-toothed masses can hurl a bean-bag at a target to douse me? I-"
"That's quite enough of that, Master Docks." Brande sharply cut him off, mid-rant, by way of his walking stick thrust warningly in front of Docks' chest. The young man put his arms down, and glowered. "I am here for some of your plans. I need to be able to give Minister Stark some proof of your progress on the Electro-static force field."
Docks muttered under his breath.
"DOCKS. The plans."
Stomping over to the drafting table, Docks tore off a large sheet of paper and rolled it up.
"It's not ready yet. It will be ready when the deadline is up-IN SEVEN DAYS."
Captain Brande took the roll of paper and nodded.
"It had best be, Master Docks, or else we will have to delay our little 'excursion' yet again."
Docks' eyes narrowed.
"It will be done. Now get out. You are costing me valuable research time."
Norg turned to follow Captain Brande out of the lab. Waiting, perched on the door knob, was the monkey. It twirled Norg's pencil in it's leathery paw, tasting the wooden stick in it's mouth.
"Er, Koko, was it? May I have my-"
"KOKO. RELEASE THE WRITING IMPLEMENT."
At the booming sound of Docks' voice, the monkey shrieked at Brande, handed the pencil to Norg, and leapt across the room, landing on Docks' back as he hunched back over the drafting table again. Norg followed Captain Brande out, and the door shut securely beneath them.
"Blimey, he's an upleasant fellow, isn't he?"
"Young Master Earl Docks is not in the employ of the Ministry for his good humour and tactful conversation, no." Brande replied, and the two began the winding trip back down the clock tower.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 6:59 pm
Warren stared out the giant window in the main lounge room of his house. He looked out upon factory after factory. He let out a small sigh. Warren felt a presence next to him and turned to see his father.
"You should be doing something with your life Warren" his father told him.
"Can't talk now father I have to meet someone very soon"
"You're going to see that scientist aren't you? Docks is it? Actually that works out just perfectly. I wanted you to ask him to take you as an assistant. You can tell him payment is no problem"
Warren chuckled at his father's suggestion. "I don't think that's going to happen. Docks already has an assistant and he's not really a people person"
"I still want you to ask, and i will find out if you don't"
Warren opened the window and jumped out. Not to his surprise it took several seconds before his large mechanical wings kicked in. he looked back to see his father's disapproving stare. "Don't worry I'll try not to be out too late" Warren shouted. His father just closed the curtains without saying anything.
Warren headed to Big Ben and hovered outside the face of the clock. Inside he could see Docks. "he doesn't look too happy" he muttered to himself. Warren knocked on the face of the clock and awaited to be let in.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 7:22 pm
"Argh!"
With an angry motion, Docks flipped all the papers on his desk onto the floor.
"It's not WORKING, Koko!"
The monkey tilted it's head, looking at him, and then jumped over to the window, to the sound of a soft tapping.
"Eh? What's that?"
Earl slipped a pencil behind his ear and followed his assistant over to the trianglar window, nestled in the bottom of the "V" of the roman numeral 6 at the bottom of the clock's face. Peering out, his eyes grew wide.
"Warren!"
Earl unlocked the window, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze in through.
"Are you INSANE?! This is BIG BEN. What if some cretin looks up to see if it's time for the evening milk delivery, and just happens to see a man up flying at half-past six? Get in here!"
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 7:40 pm
Warren stepped inside and looked around. "I guess next time i should use the stairs. I came to talk to you about my wings. They were working fine until last week. They seem to be taking their time when it comes to flight. I have a fear that one of these days I'm going to jump out a window or off a building and I will hit the ground."
Warren wandered about looking at various papers that were scattered around the floor. "Oh and my father wanted me to ask you about becoming your assistant" He half muttered, almost hoping that Docks would not hear him.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 7:53 pm
Docks sighed.
"When is your father going to realize that he has no control over how my life is going, now?"
Putting on his magnification goggles, Earl stood on a box of cogs behind his friend and started inspecting the mechanical wings strapped on his back.
"KOKO! INCREASE POWER TO THE LIGHTS!"
The almost-imperceptible hum in the room increased, along with the illumination.
"Your family helped take care of me after my parents died, Warren, but that was a dozen years ago. I've been on my own for a while, and I'm doing JUST FINE."
This was said through extremely gritted teeth.
"Ah. You've blown a piston on the left wing. WHY aren't you oiling these nightly like I told you? You're going to be thirty feet in the air one of these days, and you'll suddenly find yourself getting intimate with the pavement at this rate."
Docks unhooked the piston from the left wing, and it fell flat against Warren's back.
"KOKO! TOOLS!"
With a chattering shriek, the small monkey handed Earl a tool belt. Adjusting the magnification in his goggles, he got to work installing the new piston.
"If only all of my projects were this simple, I wouldn't have any problems. There."
With a 'snap,' the new piston went into place.
"Now, try that out. Just don't knock loose any of the wires in here!"
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 8:01 pm
Warren launched himself into the air and circled around the room a couple of times. "I know I'm not going to be you assistant, but I had to ask. You know how my father is when he wants you to do something. It's that he just told me 'You should be doing something with your life'."
Warren landed and turned to the monkey "Plus i dont think anyone could be half the assistant Koko is. Maybe I'll join the military or become a lawyer or something who knows."
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 8:04 pm
Docks pulled off his goggles and had a seat at his drafting table.
"Warren."
There was a long pause, as he took the pencil from behind his ear and started writing on a notepad.
"There is...there's one thing you could do. For me. But I'm not sure I should ask..."
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 8:04 pm
There are things in the life of Mel Fray which go bump in the night. Or, in the case of the strange seller she's dealing with now, things that go "glub glub."
Or at least, he should be saying that, instead of saying "10 shillings."
"Ya've gotta be jokin' me, Gunther! You know right well that piece is worth at least a pound, and prob'ly some more. Ya can't bloody expect me ta just take half-value, can you?"
"Now Mel, don't take that tone of voice with me. I know machinery, and this piece is worthless without its mate. It's just one cog. I'm being generous offering you anything at all. You want full-price, you go back to the clank you stole this from and you find the other part."
Yeah, 'course Gunther'd say he knows machinery. Just 'cause he built himself some sorta underwater suit and supposedly can't live without it, he thinks he knows all about clockwork. Bollocks to that.
"That's a load, and ya know it. I'll not go lower than 18 shillings, ya hear me?"
"15, Mel, and you're trying my patience."
She went silent for a moment, weighing her options. She could sell it to someone else, but then Gunther would be angry at her. Might not buy from her in the future. And there's always the chance that it really was a worthless cog she took, een though she doubted that. She'd been at this long enough to know what was worth takin'. Still, looks like she didn't have much choice this time.
"Ya want me ta take the piss this time, then fine. I'll do it. But next time, ya'd better make it up to me. I want a flat pound BASE fee for whatever I salvage next time, ya hear me? Don't matter if it's just a cog or a bit of coil or a whole ruttin' exoskeleton. Ya start at a pound and we go up from there, got it?"
Gunther's eyes narrowed--or at least, she imagined that his real eyes did even if the ones on the suit weren't actually movable--but he agreed.
"Fine, boy, but only because you're my best runner, and I know you'll bring me something worth the price."
They didn't shake hands on it, due to Gunther's being submerged in a gigantic tank of water, but the verbal agreement was enough. With her pockets 15 shillings heavier, Mel took her leave. She'd manage some bread and milk for the week, and then maybe take on a coupl'a days at one'a the factories. That should keep her landlord happy and her stomach full, at least.
And if that didn't work, well, she could always find some more of Her Majesty's Finest to disassemble.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 8:11 pm
"What is it Docks?" Warren knew something must be up if an outspoken person like Docks was hesitating.
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Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 8:18 pm
"Jones!" Broom watched in dismay as one of his best sergeants keeled over, spurting blood. The b***h had a hidden rifle! And she was busily being hurried away by two men, a coach waiting nearby.
Oh hell no.
Addison fumbled beneath his coat as he started to run, whipping out a gigantic gun, something vaguely akin to a Webley-Fosberry on steroids. He shot wildly, missing for the most part, but managing to graze the arm of the man on the Whore's right.
Shoving people left and right out of his way, Addison swore fluently under his breath as the human river slowed him down. He'd never make it at this rate. His men were too busy with the mob, and the damnable Whore was stepping into the coach.
'COME BACK HERE, DAMN YOUR EYES!" He shot again at the coach, one bullet plunging into a brick wall and another spanging off a wheel to disappear into the street. The coach soon followed suit, crowd miraculously parting for it as it rolled out of the market square.
----
"I'm telling you, Langdon, we're not set up for this kind of damnable work," Addison grumbled, half-mindedly chewing on a cigar. As he sat in his local club, the day's events were eating at him. One of his men dead, several more injured from the riot that followed. None of the anarchists had been apprehended, and everyone arrested had by now been released. By all accounts it had been a complete c**k-up.
The man lounging in the chair across from him made a non-commital noise in agreement, reading the evening's paper. It featured another headline about the Whore, a rather exciting print of the mob for the front page, and a decidedly unflattering caricature of Col. Broom on the interior.
"You know, you'd never have seen something like this happen in America. We yanks hold very tightly to our right to disagree obnoxiously with our neighbor." Langdon Everrett Caul folded the paper, slipped it over the side of his armchair, and took a sip of sherry. "I can't say I particularly care for her ideas, but I respect her right to dress up garishly and shout them at people. You shouldn't have been there in the first place, Addy."
The red figure scowled and discarded his heavily chewed cigar. "Can't say I disagree. I'm meant to be stopping runaway mechs and maddened alchemists, not little girls in costumes with rifles. But it was an order, and I'm a military man first. Next time..." he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Next time, I'll figure out something better. Something that won't get any more of my men killed."
He'd need to find an artificer. One of the government's Madboys who could fix him up with something to capture the red-haired chit of a girl who was causing the nation such trouble.
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