"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[HAC]

Samuel "Scuzz" Tulkington took another drink from the bottle of gin on the tabel in front of him. Spread out were  the ledgers and notes
left behind by "Boxer" Wimbleton. Tulkington now knew 'Boxer's" secret. He had been skimming profit from the rackets, and holding back from the Colonel.
"Gods, what a bleedin' mess. I'll have to make up the shortfall. Bloody "Boxer" getting too fancy fer his britches, and all" he sighed..
"And then this fire, if I don't find out what THAT"S about, it'll be my neck next"
Tulkington sighed, and took another swig...
"Billy! get yer bleedin' arse in here. NOW!" he yelled..
The door opened and a slight young man, raggedly dressed, and dirty as a sweep. "Aye, Bossman?"
"Get down to the Seven Dials and find what's bloody well going on down there with that fire. Who started it, and all. You need muscle, take Scoggins and Bumble wit' you. Tell 'em I said to get their thumb's out and 'op to it!.. and quick mind ye, the Colonel's asking!"
  Billy ran out the door, yelling down the stairs to the two bully-boys..
"Bleedin' Hell, what a day, what a day" mumbled "Scuzz" taking another drink.. He had seen and heard what LAmont had done with "Boxer" before releasing him to death. That had given "Scuzz" a great desire to make sure he did his job well. He had no desire to have a visit from Lamont, ever.
Not all the gin in Lower London would erase the sights and sounds of Lamont's "professional call" from his memory...

[AFGNCAAP]

At Horatio's inquiry, Demetri gasped and tried to reach into his breast pocket; the attempt only got him a mess of numb, tangled fingers. Time for plan B: he rocked back and forth like a frightened child until he felt a bottle smaller than the palm of his hand jump in it. Just a little more...
"I thought I should finally try some--being in London this long--but not much..."
Ping!
The world's smallest bottle of whiskey, no more than two inches tall, shot into the air and came down right on Ajax's head. It was anyone's question where Demetri had got such a thing.
"Je suis désolé--!" he cried.

[Gaslight Phantom]

Whiskey?

Whiskey. Ajax's eyes fluttered at the promise of alcohol – and the rapidly-descending decanter hit him square between them.

"Bleedin'... soddin'... plaguy... ooh, hello!" It was whiskey! He forgot his ringing ears and burning throat for a moment and sat bolt upright, uncorking the tiny bottle and downing its contents in a split second. Pity, hardly more than a drop or two... He cast about for more, and his eyes fell on the concerned trio around him. "Who do I have to thank for that, eh – and any chance they've got another on 'em?"

The tools! Where were – ah! He scrabbled in the dirt for Haywood's various belongings, suddenly very aware of his cuts and bruises. Good Lord, he was filthy, too. A pox on fires, and soot in general. At least he had what he'd come for, and the Illuminator was still lying on the grass, unharmed. Leaning on the fireman's arm, he hoisted himself to his feet and stumbled over to the contraption, but his muscles screamed blue murder at him when he tried to hoist it onto his back. "Damn!"

Giving up on the brass monstrosity, he turned to Horatio and Demetri and sat down hard on the grass, groaning and rubbing his aching neck. "All right, so now that the brigade's gettin' everythin' ship-shape, I figure someone oughta let me know just why me mate's flat is burnin' down. Any takers?" He wasn't mad, per se – after all, it was ironically fitting – but that building had held some small shred of nostalgia for Ajax, and certainly for old Haywood. Besides, he still needed to gather his strength, and one couldn't just turn one's back and walk away without hearing the story.

[AFGNCAAP]

"It was mine, monsieur," said Demetri. "The smell of it failed to appeal to me enough for me to purchase another." He turned to the now much happier fireman and thanked him for arriving in time in a voice one might normally use to thank a waiter for a glass of water. "I feared you wold not hear me calling you."
The fireman squinted confusedly. "If you were so desperate to save this troublemaker, tell me why you didn't just come to where we were?"
"That relates to just the question Monsieur Ajax asks us--what I can answer." He gave Ajax a sideways glance. "Before there was any fire, I observed an explosion in the corner of my eye, in the window of the top floor. Something blue, and before the fire was of any danger to the building's foundation, smoke was--it was the same blue at first, and put me down for an unexpected nap on this bench. My nerves are yet to completely wake up with the rest of me, and I can still barely move. I think I'll be all right, but the initial explosion has to have involved strong chemicals, or I can jump up and do a cartwheel for you." He paused to let them make sense of this, his mouth a thin line as straight as his face had been even through his second of jest. "I will venture to voice my suspicion that the explosion and its noxious aftereffects were the product of a science experiment gone horribly awry; but history, not chemistry, is my specialty. I have nothing more useful to give you on the matter."

[Miss Gadget]

"Might I suggest," Horatio clambered to his feet and replaced his notes within the tattered leather bag, "we locate a somewhat more erm suitable location within which to discuss events? The evening is ah closing in and this is no place to be after dark. Call it sutble irony, but I would find myself err much more inclined to shed light on the subject in front of a ah warming fire so to speak."

He removed his glasses and began to clean them nervously with an old handkercheif.

[the Hat]

"I know o' a place." Scott was a little more sober now, and saw his chance to add something to the conversation.
"There's a place 'round the corner," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction he had come, "it's called Bucer's. 'Sides a couple students from the college, it should be empty."

[Miss Gadget]

"Marvelous," Horatio's eyes lit up as he replaced his spectacles, "shall we Gentlemen?"

[AFGNCAAP]

Demetri answered affirmatively with a rare smile.
"Perhaps I will see my Professor Agrippa there...he taught me English. I always wonder where he is in such a hurry to go every afternoon. I only hope I will be able to follow you."

[the Hat]

"I have not seen any professors or such folk as that, they are mostly the younger students. I do know that they make a mean ale and coffee, or tea, if such a thing catches your fancy."
Scott looked at the endearing Frenchman and asked: "Sir, I'm not sure quite how stable I am myself, but do you require a "hand" as it were? You do not look well!"

[AFGNCAAP]

Only students? Boring. The smile dropped from Demetri's countenance, leaving only the usual poker face, but he was glad to have this group; they would be the source of the only mildly intriguing conversation in the establishment.
His knees protested as he stood up. He was more content not asking for help, but he had slept on this bench once, and it had got old fast.
"Merci--maybe one hand, but no more than that."

[Gaslight Phantom]

At the prospect of a quick drink (and the story, naturally, but the drink was the main attraction), Ajax's eyes lit up. "Aye, that'd hit the spot. That poor little dram o' whiskey must be gettin' a mite lonely in me innards without a few of his mates to keep him company..."

Grunting like a troglodyte, he managed to hoist the Illuminator and cradle it in his arms. His legs bent like a Hussar, he managed a grin at the Scotsman, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere with his brilliant idea. "Dunno who you are, mate, but I daresay you think a lot like I do."

That reminded him, though – he hadn't introduced himself! Terrible manners to leave oneself nameless for more than a minute, Haywood always said, but Ajax had a little ways to go before he could approach his late friend's level of social grace. "Almost forgot," he grunted, wincing as he shifted the invention's weight to extend a massive, calloused hand in the general direction of everyone present. "Ajax Callaghan."

[the Hat]

Scott had always known he liked Irish folk! The huge man, named Ajax, seemed to be more than friendly; he wondered why on God's great Earth that his family despised the red-headed highlanders so. He had never seen anything to fear or hate about them. So, while smiling a large Scottish smile, he shook Ajax hand and said: "Aye, whiskey it is! Or they have a good Scottish ale I'm fond of: Skull-splitter!" Scott grinned widely at Ajax, hoping the invitation would make him even more friendly.
Then, Scott helped to Frenchman to his feet. They both wobbled precariously, but managed to keep their balance. The man said something unintelligible to Scott in French, but by the look on his face, it was a comment of gratitude.
Once everyone seemed up and able with all their odd assortment of gear in hand, Scott called to the group entire:
"Well lads! It's off to the pub we go!"

[Miss Gadget]

'Bucer's Quill' was a public house like many others in London, the oak door painted a dark green, stained darker by the soot and smoke and it's coat peeling from years of neglect, gave way to a low ceiling from which hung just enough oil lamps to provide illumination for the regulars to see their drinks, but not enough for close inspection. At one end a rotund Publican with huge handlebar mustache cleaned a pewter tankard with his apron, behind him row upon row of unmarked casks sat on a shelf barely managing to support their weight.

Scott led the group to his regular table by the roaring fireplace in front of which a flat capped old gent slumbered in an old armchair, his faithful hound keeping a constant vigil on a tankard that sat beside his master. As his companions pulled low stools to the solid oak table, it's varnish stained deep burgundy by years of spilt drinks, Horatio wandered to the bar and returned with a round of a suspect beverage by the name of 'Skull-splitter.' Sliding them across the table to the assembled, he swung into a seat beside Ajax and stowed his bag beneath the table.

"Darcy," he grinned after taking a sip of the dark and bitter liquid, "Horatio Darcy. Apologies for any inconvienience you may have suffered as a result of that nasty business with the fire, errm, I found myself in a corner whilst attempting to do business with one of the residents. Of course it was only after I saw fit to defend myself that his penchant for Alchemy was revealed."

That said, Horatio looked at his beer, then over his shoulder, glimpsed at the others faces, then took another swig.

"You see I'm getting somewhat desperate in my purpose here, perhaps I might not have been so rash as to see this particular gentleman had I more clues to what I seek."

The gravity of his situation struck home and Horatio lent backwards to regard his drink.

[HAC]

The companions were just settling into their drinks and a discussion of the fire and surrounding events when there was a cough from behind them...
"Ello, then gents.."
Horatio turned and saw three men approaching their table. The other regulars had suddenly started staring into their drinks, and studiously minding their own affairs.. The man who spoke was dressed in a ragged coat and trousers, with a woollen muffler warpped about him. he wore a battered top hat, and was as dirty as a chimmney sweep. He had  hard look about him, and a foxy, pocked face.
  With him were two others. One was a broad shouldered, well built fellow, who had the air and look of a seasoned professional prize-fighter. His knuckles were scarred, and his nose had been broken, several times too many, by the look of it. He attitude was watchful, and ready, and he had that air of confidence that a seasoned and successful fighter had.  He dressed in a linen shirt, sleeves rolled back, black trousers with hobnail boots, and a leather vest. This was topped of by a bowler. Tucked into the back of his belt, was a leather blackjack.   Beside him was someone altogether different, a large towering man, larger even than Ajax. His fists were large and scarred, his legs like tree trunks. He was built like an ox, and appeared to be solid muscle. Strangely enough, atop all this was a face that looked oddly child like. He was dressed in a set of boilermakers overalls, and wore a flat cap..
  "As I woz sayin, then gents, 'ello.. Me name's  Billy, and the fightin' cock to me left is Scoggins. The big un's Bumble. A likkle birdie tells me you all woz at that fire wot 'appened over at Seven Dials. Me boss wants fer me  to find out  as wot 'appened, as 'IS boss wants to know right quick, see? Now my Boss, 'e's an all roight sort, but, a word to the wise, mates, you don't want to go crossin' 'is Boss. So, seeing as some of you gents seem to be new to these parts, me boss said to go easy, as you moight not know the rules of the place, as it were"
  Billy reached into his coat, and pulled out a purse...
"Me Boss can be a gen'rous sort, to those wot see things 'is way"   Billy dropped the purse on the table..
"These a gold sov'rin in there fer the each of youse, just for a bit of h'information on what you knows about that fire.. That's the easy way of it, or, if youse would rather, me two cullies here would be 'appy to discuss things wit youse..  An' one more thing, I wouldn't  be trying any flash cove tricks..
You'd not last long, this is me Boss's territry, and its fair short on hidey holes for those coves wot think they can run and 'ide from my Boss...
So boyos, like as to be old friends, then.. will you tell Billy what ye be knowin' ? " ......

[Miss Gadget]

The colour drained from Horatio's face as the purse hit the table, he didn't dare look at the cutthroat Billy but tightened his grip upon the tarnished tankard. His heart beat so hard he thought it would burst from his chest as he waited, uncertain how his new associates would respond.

[Gaslight Phantom]

Ajax's eyes narrowed, and his mouth split in an unpleasant grin as he uncrossed his legs and pushed his chair ever so slightly away from the table. He swallowed his mouthful of ale and exhaled slowly and deliberately. Steam practically hissed from his wide nostrils as he fixed the grotty newcomer with a withering stare. Petty thugs were a dime a dozen in the Underworld, but this one seemed to be giving himself airs like he was some bigwig somewhere. Most just laid a man flat and then told him what they wanted from him.

"You're talkin' me language, mate, but you're not sayin' what I want to hear. What I'd love to be hearin' right now is a hearty 'Top o' the mornin', gents! Can I buy youse another round?', not a bleedin' threat." He cracked his knuckles, and cursed inwardly. Bleedin' fire still has me seein' stars. Need more ale, Callaghan, yes you do. Don't nobody intimidate me without a black eye for their troubles. He raised the mug to his lips and drained it. If push came quite literally to shove, there was still the good ol' Mark II, snug under the table where the knuckleheads might not have seen it.

"I've got a counter-proposal for you, though, an' I think you might like it, if I knows your type like I think I do. We tells you the fire was an accident; somebody's mother fell asleep in the middle o' boilin' some pottage, or whatever it takes to keep your 'boss' happy. You go stuff your moneys – keep 'em for yourself or join us for a round or whatever suits your fancy – and we all goes home as happy lads..." He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, and inspected the bottom of his mug with mock interest. "Else, we can all have this out and you can get two lovely fires to report to your chief."

He looked from face to face at the table, suddenly noticing a certain lack of support from his companions, and snorted disparagingly. "Unless you'd all rather not get your precious cufflinks dirty, o' course."

[HAC]

Billy looked at Ajax..
  "Ah, an Oirish gentleman of principle... me dear ole muvver was Oirish, before I kilt her and her cheatin' flash cove.  No boyo, Oi'm  a diff'rent sort than you'd like have known back home in Oireland, you sees, Oi means what Oi says, and Oi'm not just a flash cully what works fer yer local Big Yin...
So, let me say, one more time nice like, yer new here, and London town down here, well, it belongs to the Colonel, yer see. Ye'll live longer and maybe see yer grandkids if yer nice.. Now me Boss, he knows what he knows, and as I wuz saying, you can tell nice and friendly like what  ye saw, or know, or, ye'll not make it past the morrow, a tragic accident an all, and then we'll be having that fancy toy of yers ye seem so fond of,  to take to my Boss. Now, seeing as I wuz told to be noice and polite like, I'll have anuvver round sent over here, and me and me mates will sit over there by the door while ye and your mates decoides. Oi just needs ter know what ye saw, and whatever else ye can tell me about that passin' strange fire."
  Billy whistled to the barkeep, who nodded and bent to the pulls...He turned back to the group..
"Oi'll give ye some advice about London, me fine Oirish gent, for the sake of me dear ole muvver. It's like this, all koinds of ways of livin' and makin' some good coin, if ye plays by the rules... Trouble bein, there's lots more ways of dyin', be it, fast, slow, neat er nasty, than ye could think of,  should ye cross them folks as makes the rules.. Oi don't doubt a big fine gent loike yersef could give me and me bully-boys trouble, maybe even leave us here daid on the floor, but how many time after that could ye come out on top, ye'd be watchin' yer back fer the rest of yer life, an a short one it'd be fer sure.  So, take some advice from ole Billy,  'ave a drink on me, and talk it over wit yer mates..  O'ill be waitin' over there..take yer toime, Oi've got all night, and me sovs are easy money..."

[AFGNCAAP]

Demetri had been just about to introduce himself, too, when Billy had walked up.
"Good evening, monsieur...!" he had greeted him cordially, innocent of the danger, but was ignored. What followed was the biggest mess of unintelligible English things he did not understand that he had heard since he had hopped off the boat from France. Then his companions had all looked so threatened...Demetri sat there silently and uncomfortably, with a comically befuddled look on his face, feeling unable to help until he knew what was going on; this frightening man's speech lost him every time he tried to follow it.
When Billy finally wandered off, leaving everyone else at the table in a seeming state of anxiety, Demetri could only think of saying one thing. He took a sip of his glass of absinthe while the others looked after Billy in a tense silence.
"I call myself--" He cut himself off and intensely concentrated for a second, remembering how they said it in English. "--my name is Demetri. Demetri Rousselle. I regret to say I understood almost nothing that man said, though I fear he was inexcusably rude to Monsieur Ajax and promise to tell him what I think of that once I know what he was talking about," he sniffed. "I only picked up a few words--and I think I may be the newest to this place of us all."

[the Hat]

That man had no right! How dare he make threats to a man such as Ajax! He had always known that he disliked "Billy," whoever that impostor said he was. He had a VERY poor Irish accent as well. Scott had courted a colleen for four years, and knew how REAL Irish folk talked. Ajax was the real deal......... "Billy" was not; this made him extremely suspect in addition to his already suspicious characteristics. And then there was that "Colonel" fellow again. I'd like to give that bastard a piece of my mind, Scott thought as he muttered a quiet stream of profanity into his mug of ale. "The rotten, pig-eared, bile eating son of a..." he looked over at Demetri, who was utterly confused by the goings on.
"Don't worry me fine friend, I believe our good Irish man can take care of himself! Now what, pray tell, where you doing paralyzed on a park bench? I am quite curious!"

[Gaslight Phantom]

Ajax fumed. 'Me deer ole muvver wos Oirish! Oi'm 'alf Oirish, boyo! Oo er, lookit me bein' all Oirish!' If there was one thing he disliked more than stuck-up ponces with their noses in books, it was stuck-up ruffians who tried out their Irish accents on him. Most waited until they were good and drunk, but this one had daring of a type he hadn't often crossed as a steelworker. Either there was truth in his talk about his boss, or he was the spunkiest liar in London. Don't matter any more, though – he's crossed the damn line. He set down the mug with furious restraint, cracked his huge knuckles, and growled across the room through his clenched teeth. "Call it a toy again, ye boot-lickin' scumbag, an' I'll kill you an' yer mates just for the chance to hunt down yer boss, an' his boss, an' Satan his boss, an' knock out all his pointy teeth one by one 'til he's taught his witless muck-rakers what not to say to an actual Irishman."

[AFGNCAAP]

Demetri, even sitting just across from the fuming Ajax, didn't flinch.
"When I regain my legs, I'll gladly clear your path straight to the boss," he said as eloquently as ever. His second glass of absinthe (and these were not small glasses) had been delivered, and he showed nor felt any affect of the first whatsoever--it seemed his level personality outweighed the usual effect of alcohol on a person, almost supernaturally. "This Billy fellow gets worse with everything you say."
Hearing Ajax and Scott, he had started to piece something together. He turned to Scott. "I dimly recall having told the story a bit ago, but if my memory fails me, what started the fire was some noxious substance that exploded on the top floor, and the fumes were blown straight into my face. That is the last I remember before by this gentleman--" he near imperceptibly nodded in Horatio's direction. "--appeared out of thin--ah, non; it was very thick air, and awakened me. I could not do much more than blink then, but now, I think I can at least walk and know I can lift this glass. And maybe even kick." He narrowed an eye at Billy.

[Miss Gadget]

As Ajax called across the bar Horatio couldn't help but sink lower into his chair and lean his head forwards onto the table, his clenched fist slowly hammering the oak beside him.
He heard the sound of scraping wood and cluttering tankards across the room and closed his eyes in resignation.

Then a thought occured and he sat bolt upright, looking at the approaching thugs like a hungry crocodile.

"I say," he whispered to his companions, "if we could see to leaving one concious I have a few questions I might ahm, ask."

[HAC]

Billy turned back at this outburst and said...
"And you tink Oi'm not Oirish? Sure, now thats a mistake ye'll be making. Oi was born in County Down, me father was a  Taggarty, and my muvver was a Kilfillen, afore I cut her froat for layin with that cheatin' English flash cove.. Oi was forced to leave over that, and 'ere I am these past 20 years.. Now boyo, I'll tell ye this, your a dead man if'n ye dont sit back doown and think on this."
Billy nodded, and a small boy, obviously a runner, scrambled out the door.
"Me Boss will know in a few minutes what's happenin' here, and say, that maybe I don't leave here tonight.. You'll be dead afore the day is new, and ye'll never even see it coming.. As Oi was sayin, the be the Colonel's world, Lower London, and 'e don;t take kindly to what upsets 'is plans..
Ye could even kill me Boss, and it wouldn't bother the Colonel none, and ye'd still be dead. Ye've no way of knowing who's who down here, a newcomer like yerself, and ye can;t watch yer back allways. So for the sake of auld times, afore ye do something rash, think on it.. Oi'll leave if ye want, and take me bullies wif me, but is yer life to be that short?

[AFGNCAAP]

Demetri heard the word "dead" a few times and reasoned that Billy was probably not directing the word at himself. Good Lord, he could have been speaking Chinese! Whatever it was, he noticed something suspicious about it, and had no way of knowing that the topic of conversation had left language behind or of Billy's deadly position in the underworld.
"I believe, monsieur, that something is different about your accent if I can understand Monsieur Ajax better than you!"
That had felt good. Fear was a foreign concept to the young man...
He turned back to Horatio and lowered his voice considerably. "What do you propose? And what does 'colonel' mean?"

[Miss Gadget]

"Colonel is a military rank dating from sixteenth centuary Italy, designating one assigned in command of field troops whilst still maintaining a field position. In charge of the column so to speak as originated from the Latin 'columnella'," Horatio opened his mouth to continue then remembered himself, "Propose? Err, naturally I have a pistol in my bag, regretably I have nothing in the way of ammunition, but that's rarely something I, ah advertise."

He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment then furrowed his brow.

"Of course I'm a pacifist by physique, so I'd usually suggest running."