The Extended Steam Salon

[fireheart storm]

Ms Storm gets out of the Buick, stretching her legs.  She wishes she had a change of clothing, preferably her "man getup" as it had been called. She wanted to ask TE if he had a spare set but then shook her head.  Better not to.  She slipped her goggles off of her head to run her hands through her hair.  She became acutely aware of he man TE had called Jimmy with them and looked up at hi, adjusting her goggles so they where back in place.  "So..." she said, feeling more than a little awkward.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

Jimmy flashes her his brilliant white smile. "Hey, doll, don't worry...I don't bite. 'Uncle Tommy' has known me since I was ten years old, and I've never bit anybody yet!"
Inside, Tommy goes to the locker room, ditches the rumpled suit into his locker, and grabs a quick shower. The hot water feels fantastic, but it can't wash away the creepy feeling that the whole world is going sideways. Dressing quickly in the fresh suit, the big detective heads out into the main area of the gym. Sure enough, Bozo is there, holding a heavy bag for another puncher. "Hey, Billy," says T.E. "Oh, *ufffff*..
hey, Tommy...*ufffffff*...what can I do for ya?" grunts Bozo between punches. Tommy almost feels sorry for the big rummy..not smart to start with, a few hundred too many shots to the head have left him simple-minded as a big kid. "Hey, Billy, I wanna talk to ya about somethin'...come on out in th' alley..I've got a bottle in th' Buick." "Sure thing, Tommy!" The two head out the back door of the gym and into the alley.
Ms. Storm is standing outside the Buick, talking to Jimmy in the back seat. Reaching in through the open passenger side door, Tommy flips open the glove box and pulls out a pint bottle of rum. Handing it to the red-haired former puncher, Tommy says "Let's me and you talk about what you been doing fer Mr. Lipschitz, lately, Billy." Eagerly uncorking the pint, Bozo takes a couple of greedy swallows, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, "Awww, Tommy, ya know I can't talk to ya about that!"
"Well," says T.E., "Howzabout ya tell me where I can find him, an' I can ask him myself." Taking another swig, Bozo answers, " I guess that'd be okay, Tommy...he's down at Warehouse 14, they got some kind of big equipment down there..." Suddenly, the conversation is cut short by a burst of gunfire from the end of the alley. T.E. pulls his big automatic, Storm, with astonishing quickness, hunkers down behind the open passenger door and starts firing with a revolver. The kid in the front seat even gets in on the action, leaning out the driver's side window and popping off two quick shots with a derringer she's produced from somewhere. Rolling down behind the trunk, Gunn empties the clip of the big .45 down towards the end of the alley. There's still some return fire for a moment, but only for a moment. Nearly shattering everyone's eardrums, Jimmy Chu leans out the back window and cuts loose with the machine-gun, chipping brickwork all over the place where the gunfire has originated. All resistance ceases. Tommy doesn't know if their unseen adversaries have been hit, or only run off, but it doesn't matter...at least the gunfire has stopped. Rising up from behind the trunk, his Colt still smoking in his hand, he turns around and his blood runs cold again.."Bozo" Collins is lying flat on his back, a hole in the middle of his forehead, the pint bottle still in his hand gurglling its remaining contents into the gutter. "At least I didn't shoot 'im," thinks Tommy. Grimly, he realizes..."That's two out of three."
"Back in the car, kids," he growls. He puts the big Buick in gear, and heads for the Warehouse District. Next stop-Warehouse 14.

[fireheart storm]

Ms Storm smiled back at Jimmy, she wanted to laugh.  As if a a factory girl (and cross dressing monster hunter) would be a doll.  She said to him, "there's a first time for everything sir,"   She looked up when TE came back out with a large man, simple minded was her guess.  She shifted, her hand settling on her revolver. She watched them talk.  Ware house 14... She felt her body stiffen, underground there where a lot of rumours about warehouse 14.

That's when the gunfire started.

She pulled her revolver as she dove behind the door, firing down at where the assualt is comgin from. She empties the revolver in a few heartbeats and quickly reloads.  She gives herself a mental pat on the back for practicing, it helped.  As she levels the revolver and takes the first three shots she feels the air around her tremble with the sound of a huge gun.  She looks over her shoulder at Jimmy with a Thompson.  She slowly stands, no return fire...

"Back in the car, kids," TE Growls and she emdiately complies.  She reloads her revolver again, sliding it into her holster.  Next she pulls out her knife.  It isn't huge, but a larger knife than most ladies have reason to carry and she twists her wrist a few times holding it, hoping her throwing practice will be as rewarding as her shooting.  She looks at Jimmy and asks.

"You and him always get into messes like this?"

[OldProfessorBear]

Meanwhile, back at "Cocktails" (the only sign the saloon, or salon, boasts) ...


The Professor silently takes in the frenetic action, downs the rest of his G-and-T in a gulp, and says to Clark, "Another, please. Easy on the tonic. And make it a triple!"

He turns on his barstool to face the room. Two lovely young ... ladies. Two husky ... gentlemen, one, slightly familiar, wearing an eyepatch. The Professor has seen him in here before.

His unfailing instinct tells him that these four are basically good, honest folk. Oh, they all have secrets, but who doesn't?

Taking a large slug of his triple, he clears his throat and whispers to Patch: "I gather you are attempting to deal with a Time bomb ... I may be in a position to offer some modest assistance."

[von Corax]

At a table by the door, a nondescript gentleman closes a notebook and drains his glass. Rising, he consults a pocket watch; his brow furls in thought. After a moment he pockets the watch, distractedly lays a few coins on the table, and slips out the door into the darkness.

EDIT: Typos. Bleh.

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

*back in the Buick*
Storm asks Jimmy, "You and him always get into messes like this?"
Jimmy Chu laughs out loud. "Like this?" He chuckles a little more. "Nah, doll...this ain't a mess. Not yet, anyway. I've got a feeling it's going to get messier, though. Let's just say a day out with 'Uncle Tommy' is never boring. Hey, Tommy," Jimmy says as he uncouples the drum magazine from the machine-gun, "Have you got any ammo on board?" Eyes on the road, Tommy grunts over his shoulder, "Under th' seat." Jimmy gropes around under the back seat, and pulls out a paperboard box marked .45 ACP, Armour Piercing, Incendiary, 500 rds."There's a manufacturer's label on the end.."Iron Furnace Arms & Armour." Whistling happily, Jimmy starts reloading the drum.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to work we go........
This kid is irrepressible.

[fireheart storm]

Ms Storm looked at him, smiling  "some how, I'm not surprised.  I've had more scares today than I've had in the past few months," she said sitting back.  She watched Jimmy carefully.  Just because they could be obliterated any second didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the view. No, no that's exactly what it meant, get a hold of yourself Storm! She shook her head looking at the ammo box then pulled out her rifle, looking at the butt of it and sure enough was "Iron Furnace Arms & Armour"  she shook her head.
"Do we have a plan much beyond drive up and start firing?" she didn't have much of a problem with that, it was about as much of a plan as she normally had.

[MWBailey]

MW Steps forward, holding out his hand in greeting."MW Brantley," he says, "US Customs. and yessir, we can probably use all the help we can get. In about a minute, we're going to send Mr. Clark, here, to stop an event that has caused this and at least a hundred other incidents like it since the days of the Welles Affair."

"I'm supposed to give him the short version of whatever he needs to know, about both Mad Jack Pulcifer, and the history, etc. of time travel; if I forget something that you know about, please fill in the gap."

MW repeated to Clark all of what he had told Tommy and the others,  and then added some more:

Now, Clark, a couple or few things more. About Jack Pulcifer; he'll still be somewhat young, and he'll look like me. Thats because he's...well, he's a distant relation. He's trigger-happy as all hell, except when he's playing the banjo. During the period we're sending you too, he didnt have a lot of time for banjo playing. don't approach his ship when he's on it, unless you call out first, from several yards away, preferably out of th e accurate range of the standard black powder revolvers of the period, say about twenty yards. Where we will be sending you is an open field with a shack on it, which us where Jack kept his blimp when he decided to be a groundlubber for a while. it's right on the Medway, leading ultimately to Docklands, but there should be no reason to go there.

Now, as for what to say to him: when you get close enough to tell him what you're there for, tell him, "MW says that you must refrain; Schrindlehoff." that last word is a code used between Texian Secret Service operatives just after the revolution, and it is vitally important that you use it and say it in exactly the way that I did just now. If he does not comply, you are authorized to shoot him, to  disarm and subdue; tie him up, and take him to, and leave him at, the doorstep of Newgate Prison after ringing the door-bell four times. Are we clear on that?

Clark responded "yes, Sir. when should I go?

In just a few minutes, Clark. but let me write this down for you:
MW grabbed a piece of notepaper from a pad on the bar-top, and began writing a series of instructions. As he wrote, he asked the professor, "can you think of anything else he might need to know, professor?

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

*back in the Buick*
"I'm workin' on one," says Tommy. They're still a few miles away from the Waterfront, and the adjoining Warehouse District. T.E. keeps his concentration on the road ahead as he guides the heavy car through traffic. "Going in blasting ain't gonna work in this case, not with the Lizard. If this project o' his is as big as it figgers ta be, he's gonna have guards posted, prob'ly a lot of 'em, and all armed to th' teeth. I'm plannin' on parkin' half a mile away, an' tryin' ta sneak in and scope the layout." Tommy can't shake the vision of ocean going freighters riding huge waves movin' up th' river, of giant cargo airships being blown through the sky like dead leaves in a hurricane. "Geez," he thinks, "Even Lippy's not that stupid. Greedy, yes. Evil? Without a doubt. But there's a big difference between burnin' down a few unprofitable warehouses, and destroyin' the whole city. Where's the profit in that? Whatever that mega-blast was (or will be, he corrects himself,) it's probably a colossal mistake, an unforeseen consequence of messin' around with time."

[fireheart storm]

"Then he'll have guard dogs to, or that seems reasonable to me," she said looking up at the sky, "Maybe something more. You hear... weird things about warehouse 14, things most people don't wana think much about," she pulled the silver coin out of her pocket, turning it over a few times.  She didn't want to think about the rumours, or the kind of people she heard them from.
"I want to go with you," Ms Storm said, "I've crept around my fair share of places people didn't want me in"

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

*back at the Salon*
Clark inclines his metal head politely. "Mr. Brantley, Sir? I do have a question. With what, Sir, am I supposed to shoot him, should that become necessary? I can lift upwards of a ton without significant strain, my outer plating is bulletproof to anything less than a twenty millimeter gun, and I can punch a hole in an eight inch brick wall, but firearms were not included in my design."

[MWBailey]

MW Brantley finished writing the list:
For moving forward:
1. set the number of minutes to be less than needed, best to subtract five minutes per trip         forward.
2. set the hour, day, and month dials for the exact proper temporal destination.
3. then, from each hour, subtract 1/8 of an hour per each hour ahead you will be jumping
4. Set the "year" dial to the "infinity" setting.
5. Press the "initiate" or "execute" button (whichever it's called), and brace for a short fall from a half-foot or greater of altitude; six inches per century is the norm.

He hands the list, and the Colt single-action pocket pistol he carried for backup to Clark, and says, "follow these exactly, and you should be back within a few half-hours. Now, I know what Tommy said; he probably doesnt know about the Minniver paradox, its only been proven within the last year or so -- uh, your years, I mean."

"Yes, sir."
"Now, as for the pistol: you have to cock it with yor thumb to fire it. it doesnt work any othe rway, its a single-action.  do you know how to shoot? are you accurate?"

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

"Oh, yes Sir. The alignment between my ocular receptors and my hands is quite precise."

[MWBailey]

"Alright, Clark, Lets synchronize timepieces."

The construct reached in and took out the timepiece, and handed it to MW, who set it for the time and the place: Medway Fens (longitude and latitude) circa 1890.

MW handed the device to Clark, and then removed an object from his blazer pocket that looked like a cigarette case, but opened to reveal a device almost identical to the one he had just handed to Clark, except that it was square like the case it was situated in, had a dial marked "antitemporal transduction field," and sounded several different chimes as it was being set and adjusted.

He set it to the inside date of the salon, and then said, "right." Now, off you go, Clark." He and the Construct pressed their buttons simultaneously, and Clark disappeared, but MW did not. Nor did anyone else in the building at that exact moment -- which was, in fact, a very good thing indeed. MW then started a power-down sequence which would slow both his device, and the salon from their current rates of transduction at a very slow pace (it would take at least two days for it to stop altogether, by which time either Tommy and Clark would both be successful, and everything would be fine, with all of them back to tell the tale, or as many as Lippy didnt have his goons gun down; Or, one or both would be unsuccessful, which would be dire indeed for them and the entire city - except that they wouldn't be around to feel it. He hoped...

"Life's excitin' at times like this, ain't it?" He said to either the whole room, or to no one in particular...

[OldProfessorBear]

Considering he was the only other sentient being in the room, the Professor agreed.

"I hope your plan succeeds, Brantley," he said. "Erm ... may I ask if there's a backup plan? Plan 'B', so to speak," he grinned.

But before the agent could reply, there was a faint noise from the back room.

The Professor, with remarkable swiftness, was soundlessly at the door, gently and almost imperceptibly had it open.

"Nobody here," he said,  "but someone was, just a moment ago. When I entered the salon, I definitely was aware of someone sleeping back here." He did not bother to explain how. He continued, "Now it's quite empty, and no one left by the other door -- I believe it leads to Mrs. Cross's private quarters -- as you can see, it's quite firmly double bolted on this side!"

He looked up, and sniffed. "There is a very peculiar but oddly familiar smell in here, Brantley. The last time I came across that odor, I was overflying a T-Bombed area in ... well, that's unimportant. But there's no sign of a T-blast here, not even a miniscule one."

The Professor returned to the taproom and retrieved the remnants of his triple G-and-T. Taking a healthy swig, he turned back to Brantley, saying, "I suppose it would be superfluous to observe that I have a bad feeling about this. Oh, and by the way, just who was sleeping back there?"

[steampunkgrrrl]

*Sidebar* - Sorry I've been gone...but the story is progressing quite nicely.

After the firefight, the young girl turns to Ms. Storm and says "Pam. My name is Pam." In the whirr and tick of everything, she had gone from a young girl to what felt like a grown woman. She looks at her derringer and loads a few more shots in. "I'm with Ms. Storm. I'm already knee deep in this, I might as well stick it out. It's possible that just the two of you will be outnumbered. But three....maybe not." The girl smiles and remember what her father told her: "Do boldly what you do at all." "I'm ready for anything at this point."

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

As they approach the Waterfront District, near where it melds into the Warehouse District, Tommy throws out the clutch, moves the shift lever to "Neutral," kills the drives and lets the Buick coast, almost noiselessly, the last hundred yards. The jewel lights on the dashboard blink from green to amber as he  pulls the handbrake and guides the big car to a stop under the lee of an overhanging shed roof beside a brick building. There is no human activity in their immediate area. As everyone exits the vehicle, Tommy goes around to the back, and opens the trunk once more. "Okay," he says, as he removes a long rifle, fitted with a silencer and a huge telescopic sight," here's th' plan, such as it is. Pam, I think I heard you say you used ta hunt.." The black haired young lady nods. "Can you handle this?" He hands her the long gun. She examines it briefly, and nods again. "Good. We're gonna go in 'single file-Injun style,'.....You gals are about ta get a short lesson in combat patrol tactics. Jimmy's gonna take the lead...he's got certain skills that make that advisable. We move, one at a time, from point to point, and everybody else covers the one who's movin'. If Jimmy does this," Tommy holds up two fingers, points them at his eyes, then sweeps his hand flat and points..."then ya look where he's pointin'. If he does this," he holds up a fist, his arm bent 90 degrees at the elbow, "then ya freeze where ya are. Stormy, yer gonna be behind Jimmy...lemme see yer rifle," Ms. Storm hands the rifle to Tommy. He glances briefly into the barrel, grunts, and says, "Good..Iron Furnace, internal threaded.." He reaches into the trunk again, removes another silencer, threads it into the barrel, and hands the rifle back to Ms. Storm. Yer gonna be about thirty yards behind Jimmy, you watch his back, chances are he's not gonna miss anythin', but if he does, then...and only then!...you shoot. I'm gonna be about thirty yards behind ya, Storm. Miss Pam, yer gonna be bringin' up the rear with that sniper rifle. Yer gonna have th' really important job of covering us all. No talkin'...move quick and quiet, cover to cover. With any luck, we'll get in and back out without anybody bein' the wiser. Warehouse 14 is a half-a-mile east of us..we're goin' in, takin' a good look, and then back out, back here to th' car, and then decide what ta do next...Any questions?"

[steampunkgrrrl]

The girls smiles, handling the rifle. "Nope." There's just something about a gun that's always gotten her excited....

[fireheart storm]

Ms Storm nodded as he was giving instructions, half mimicking the hand potions herself in case she ever needed to use them.  "Stormy, yer gonna be behind Jimmy...lemme see yer rifle," he said and she handed him her rifle.  He threaded it with a silencer and handed it back to her.  She hefted the rifle, testing it weight as TE said to her.
"Yer gonna be about thirty yards behind Jimmy, you watch his back, chances are he's not gonna miss anythin', but if he does, then...and only then!...you shoot. I'm gonna be about thirty yards behind ya, Storm." He kept talking as Ms Storm looked over at Jimmy, giving him a nod.  When T.E. said
"Any question?" Ms storm shook her head, gripping her rifle.  Her heart started beating just a hair faster as she set herself into her business mindset, there would be no room for screw ups here.

[Athena]

Pam smiled nervously at Ms. Storm. "Don't worry." She nodded that she was ready and took her position at the back.

[Kittybriton]

A short distance down from the big Buick a tatty old black cat trotted across to a weathered and rusted barrel and sat, pear-shaped on the top, to watch the proceedings.

[MWBailey]

Back at the Salon called Cocktails, MW stared into The professor's eyes, heard his words, and felt part of the world slip from under his feet; then he slipped , ran, and slid back around to the now-locked door to Mrs. Cross's apartments, and knocked on the bolted door. "Miss? Miss Honey? You in there?" he called, and then an icy-cold feeling went through him as through the locked door he realized he could hear the noise the world outside of the building made as the inside rushed past it.

Honey was gone,and had left the back door, or a window, or whatever, open...

And then he remembered what had struck him while Tommy was talking. He also remembered why he hadn't shot that particular hole in the theory. and yes, there was a hole, a rather large, gaping hole, shaped roughly the same as one MW Brantley. In order for everything to work properly, Honey had to escape Mrs. Cross's apartments, He, Brantley, had to go after her in the Beau Rosin, and bring her back out at least as far as the road beside the warehouses. But he had time, mainly becaus ethere wasone other thing he absolutely had to do.

He had to call the blimp. So he pulled his pocket device out of his jacket pocket, held it up into the light from the bulb overhead so he could see the little dial down in teh lower left of teh faceplate, and turned it from "stay" to "transit" to "call", and then flicked teh tiny slider switch marked "auto-engage."

Out in the Marina that bordered the big Harbor area, the ancient diesel engine aboard the blimp Beau Rosin suddenly cranked and spluttered to life, as the gasbag began to fill with lofting, and the gasbag and the cabin-scow gondola lifted clear of the water. The as-yet-unmanned blimp turned around 185 degrees, and rising higher, began clatter-roaring off in the direction of the salon, the prop reflecting the reddening sky.

"Professor," MW called as he reentered the bar area, "I need you to do me and the whole world, but especially Tommy, a favor."

[MWBailey]

sorry for the o.o.c. panel here, but I'm going to be gone from tomorrow (Friday) morning until (probably) late Sunday night to the San Antonio Folk Life Festival (Hemisfair park) and will thus be unable to post. They might have an Internet Cafe or whatever they're called these days in the hotel where I'll be staying, but i will probably be exhausted after playing banjo and fife during the day.

I will probably be on later tonight, but only for a bit, as I have to get up before the sun and drive to Ol' San Antone...

Sorry, Abiliegh, Athena, Sgt. T, Pixie, but I didn't know until this morning that I was going for sure.

MWBailey

[Athena]

Sidebar - No Problem. We'll letcha know what happens. *wink*

[Sgt.Major Thistlewaite]

No worries, Mr. Bailey...I hope you have a great time pickin'...in RL I'm a banjo picker, too ...since 1970, Scruggs style three finger, learned from his tablature book and phonograph record when I was in school at Glade Valley, NC, very close to Galax, Va.-home of the original Old-Time Fiddler's Convention..perhaps you've heard of it. I'm trying to stretch the story out, anyway, so Abi and the Captain get a fair shot at it. Great fun, this!