Topic: Phlogiston: Return to Adventure

[PatMan33]

Phlogiston: Return to Adventure
A Steampunk RP

Fifteen years have come and gone since the end of the previous story. Isaac Kysely and his mysterious Promethium Engine lie dead and buried. His once-grand palace of industry now silent, slipping further and further into ruin and decay. Lucinda Tos is no more. Her grand scheme to control time broken into bits and pulverized, much like the glass tower she once called home. And yet the wheels of progress continue to turn. The world marches onward into the future and is now bigger and better than either of the old tycoons could have ever imagined. Stars rise and fall in the same spectacular fashion that they always have. And empires are still created and destroyed on the backs of those less-fortunate. But something is different about the world because of what the mega-tycoons did. Attitudes have changed and the competition is more fierce than ever before. It is uncivilized. Honor and tact are gone and the art of the game is no longer valued. Grand Central, the main hub of all business in the world, has become a dour place of walls and locked doors... a far cry from the energetic and optimistic social club it had been. Survival in this brave, new world demands a keen sense of awareness and the ability to do whatever it takes to get the job done.

Anything less and the competition will swallow you whole.

[PatMan33]

Arc I
Names

"Dammit! Dammit Dammit! Next time we're going in through the front. I'm sick of these sewer treks! These were brand new boots."

"It's not a sewer... plus, we do what the boss tells us to do. And besides, you can buy another pair of boots after we pull this job off. Lord knows you need another pair..."

"What did you say? You want me to come over there an-"

A loud sploshing sound echoed through the subterranean cavern and the two explorers came to a stop. They were a man and a women of similar height and both wore near-matching uniforms. The man pulled a timepiece out of his navy blue jacket and checked it. Meanwhile, the woman was carefully lifting a semi-shiny utility boot from a pool of black sludge. Shaking his head, the man waved his hand and the pair continued onward. He slipped the watch back into his pocket and brushed up against the gun hanging from his belt.

"The waste facility up above must have dumped a little early. Nothing major... so what were you saying?"

"I was saying I'll come over there and wring your scrawny little neck, you ass."

"Can't wait! Do you have the explosives ready? We're nearly there."

"Yeah, right here. Catch!"

The woman tossed a small brown pack to the man and shivered slightly. It was cold in the city's underground. They were somewhere underneath Grand Central, in the old city. They needed something from the bowels of the ancient building and going in through the back door afforded them several benefits, providing they could navigate a veritable maze of rooms. The underground was a mess of crumbling walls and garbage, on top of being pitch dark. As the city became larger and larger, people began to build up. What was once a basement became a sub-basement and then a sub-sub-basement. Add in a flood or two and great fire and people simply forgot. Stretch it over the course of several centuries a small collection of unused rooms and even entire homes became a sprawling network of passageways and tunnels. Even so, the underground was not appealing, even to criminals. Very few things of value remained there. It had been picked clean centuries before. Maybe if you needed to hide or conduct something extremely illegal you'd venture down. But even then it wasn't that great. Any organization worth their salt operated above ground. The underground was too far gone to be of practical use to serious criminals.

"Bingo, that's our mark! Let's make this quick."

"Right. You get the information while I go steal something important to cover our tracks."

Deep within Grand Central on one of its lowest levels was the high-security storage wing. Access to it could only be granted by a security chief and an armed escort was required at all times.  Items kept there included corporate contracts, sensitive city defense information, and general things of value. A dull thud reached the security office, causing the guard on duty to jump out of his slumber. Wearily, he got to his feet and stepped out into the corridor. Everything seemed silent but he was certain that he'd heard something, and after a few minutes he was sure of it. Someone was lurking about, he could hear their squishy footsteps. As the security guard rounded a corner something struck him in the head and knocked him off of his feet. A perfect imprint of the Grand Central seal was left in the middle of his forehead. The female thief stood over him for a moment and twirled the seal in her hand.

"Hm. That was easy."

Whistling a little tune, the woman headed back to her companion who was waiting by the hole they'd blown into the wall. With a smile, she showed him the seal and he grinned.

"You've outdone yourself this time. We can definitely use that. The boss will be happy."

"Mhm! And you got the name?"

"Yes indeed! They won't even know I was snooping around in their files, either. And you won't believe who their number one is. Rex is gonna lose it when we tell him."


The following morning...

The streets bustled with people going to and fro. Amidst the mob stood the newsboys trying desperately to sell their papers.

"Thief breaks into Grand Central secure vaults during the night! Central Star Tribune first on scene! Find out if your valuables are really safe and learn more about the safer storage options offered by Sterling Security Solutions! Read all about it!!"

"Huge news today from the scene after Grand Central breached by thugs! Can Moorcock Security really keep our most-precious possessions safe? Pullman & Sons offers you a better answer to your safety and security needs! Get your exclusive copy of the Zephyr Times today!"

"This just in! Moorcock Security posts record losses after Grand Central heist! Business World Weekly experts predict a takeover within the week! Be sure to find out how you can get on board now before it's too late! Only in Business World Weekly - the most trusted source for all things business!"

"Worker assaulted during Grand Central heist being blamed for the theft! Stop these injustices today! Buy a limited, special edition of The Worker's Standard Quarterly before they're all gone! Your deserve it!"

[Krakow Sam]

"Give me one of those, newsboy" said Firefly, holding out a small bill in a gloved hand. The newsie started at him wordlessly and handed over a paper. "My face got this way because I didn't eat my vegetables" he added, recognising the the child's gawking expression.

"This paper is full of lies newboy" he said, glancing over the front page through his smoked glasses. "Pullman and Sons do terrible security. Just terrible. A mark guarded by a Pullman was a walk in the arboretum. Rigid shifts, undermanned, didn't watch the skies, jump to the rooftops, incendiaries as distractions, plant the payload, detonate. Fireworks!"
The newsie's eyes glazed over a little as Firefly rambled and he yawned audibly.

"Hey, listen up newsboy, you might learn something!" said Firefly, flicking the lad's ear. "Tell your paper to switch to Cicada Security and there might be a hot meal in it for you. Now run along!"  
Folding up the paper and shoving it in the pocket of his coat, Firefly walked with a stooping gait toward the airship hangar which had recently started serving as his place of work.

[Doomsday]

Bernard pushed through the busy sidewalks, past the newsboys and their cries, stopping only momentarily to buy a copy of The Worker's Standard Quarterly. Got to do my part to push for those potentially lucrative unions to come about. Man, we could be making money hand over fist if ... well, I suppose that's just a pipe dream, though, the large man thought to himself as he flipped two coppers to the scrawny newsboy before continuing on, flipping through the paper as he goes.

Bernard looked up from his paper to the sight of a strange man making a small scene at the corner up ahead. He walked briskly towards the man, catching part of the his mutterings about explosives and incendiaries. Sounds like he could be in my line of work... or a hunter. Either way... Bernard flipped the newsboy who had his ear flicked a copper, and caught up with the older gentleman. "Hey pal. You shouldn't be so hard on kids, 'specially not one trying to make an honest living," he said firmly but in a reasonably friendly tone. Looking over the man in front of him, who had turned to study the unwelcome interruption quizzically. Bernard noted that the man had scars from what he presumed to be burns all across his face. "I couldn't help but hear your conversation back there, sounds like you live an interesting life. Though, it would probably be better for kids like that one," Bernard said, throwing his hand back, his thumb pointing at were the newsboy was earlier, "... if you kept some of that to yourself. These kids are so impressionable, nowadays."

[Krakow Sam]

"I'm sorry I don't believe we've met" said Firefly, not slowing his pace. "Hmm, you look out for the newsboys, similar childhood but thats not everything. Why would you care? Oh, of course, crime. You use the children as spies, very shrewd. Could be enforcement I suppose but that doesn't seem entirely likely, you're not wearing a uniform. I'm afraid I no longer offer my services in contract demolitions and sabotage, if you have something you want destroyed I suggest you hire some mercenaries. Goliath are a particularly efficient body of men."

[Raz]

Leo kneeled on a boulder overlooking a desert pass with mountains running north to south. If someone nearby had to get to the other side, they usually had to go through it if they had a vehicle. A fact which Leo was counting on, as he squinted at a note he held his hand which read, "There are a group of bandits looking to raid the nearby town. Their vehicle is yellow and generally broken down, but they should be hanging out on top of it with a bunch of rifles. Please stop them, that town is important." Thankfully, the words weren't too complex for Leo, and he was grateful for that. The note itself had come from a woman who met with him in The Blood Clot. She seemed a sincere and nice enough woman, not to mention somewhat attractive, but it was odd for townfolk to ask Leo to do things. Most people tried to ignore the man who went around hunting killers, so whenever one came forward, they must have had something important to say, right?

As his eyes left the note, he noticed a lot of dust being kicked up off in the distance, causing him to stick the paper back into his pocket and peer through his scope at the source of the rising dust; a vehicle that seemed to have a large group of men on top of it, each with at least one weapon. However, Leo didn't automatically assume this vehicle to be the target, as people don't just travel through the desert unarmed, so he decided to wait for it to draw closer to the pass, which would also make his chances of missing on the first shot be slighter.

He adjusted the scope for a moment, carefully watching the steamer approach, then returned to looking through the sights, Hmm... seems ta be de mark... De men seem like de bandit types... The men were wearing various forms of patchwork armor, some had basic helmets, and a few had pieces of metal chest armor. Those with the better armor, Leo made a mental note of as he listed the targets by priority and threat. However, he paid special attention to those that rifles with telescopic sights. Alrigh'... dey must be dem, thought Leo, as he moved the sight into position over the driver, and pulled the trigger. Leo went backward slightly with the recoil of the rifle, but he was rewarded with the sight of the driver's head being turned to a red pulp.

The now deceased driver slumped over, and with his hands still gripping the wheel tightly, made the steamer make a hard right turn until it finally began to roll, metal bending and bandits falling off only to be crushed. When it stopped, a few bandits stood up in the sand, disoriented and extremely angry as they saw their comrade's mangled bodies around them. But their anger quickly turned into fear as Leo chambered another round with the bolt-action rifle and fired, obliterating another head. The renegades quickly took cover wherever they thought it safe, and tried to return fire. One tried to run from the ruined wreck, but he quickly collapsed in the sand with a hole blown through where his heart once was. The other four were smarter, and stayed behind cover. However, one of the bandits, cocky enough to try to aim at Leo with his sighted rifle, popped his head out long enough for a bullet to travel through his forehead. The comrade which had been hiding next to him watched the body fall backwards onto the sand and closed his eyes, repeating, "Spare me, spare me, spare me..." The others, apparently figuring out that there was no chance for escape or retaliation, hunkered down and tried to amass what water and food wasn't ruined by the sand that they could safely find, settling in to wait for the Sun to set.

This was frustrating to Leo, who searched for a way to destroy the steamer entirely, but finding none, sighed and began to climb down the slope, keeping an eye out for any bandits who had the courage to look for him since he realized that the bandits would get away if he didn't kill them before sundown.

[PatMan33]

A low drone began to creep up from behind the hill Leo was descending. It was quiet at first but rapidly filled the air and caused the ground to tremble slightly. Leo was suddenly cast into shadow as a massive airship passed overhead. Its enormous propellers kicked up a wall of dust and the hunter-killer had to steady himself to keep from falling. Looking up, the finer details of the low-flying cruiser could be seen clearly. Giant guns lined its side and huge doors revealed dozens upon dozens of fighters being prepared for launch. Flanking the larger ship were four smaller escorts. Each one appeared to have enough bombs on board to decimate an entire town and their deck space was dedicated solely to stopping air-to-air strikes. There was change in pitch of the larger craft's engines and it slowly began to turn in the general direction of the nearby megalopolis.

It had all happened quickly and the fleet was over the horizon after only a few minutes, leaving the people of the small village to wonder what was going to happen. Whatever the case though, it didn't bode well for whoever was on the receiving end. The ships had been flying the navy blue and crimson colors of the infamous Captain Rex. And he rarely moved without a plan and a purpose.

[Josasa]

Mr. Four sat perched on one of the many crates aboard the dirigible. Off to his right was a small table set up with several old newspapers littered about along with the crumbs of various meals scattered about. The trip from the Outskirts had been a long one, and had been quite boring. There hadn’t been much to do besides stare out the windows at the ground that slowly moved below them. Mr. Four had read the few newspapers that the ship had several times over to the point where he was very up to date on last weeks going-ons.

So now he was just sitting on one of the crates, slowly munching away at an apple that he had found and staring at the forest of transported goods that surrounded him. It was a common sight for him. Mr. Four happened to be in the trading business, able to get ahold of almost anything in the world no matter what. His connections stretched across the land and he had acquired a good sum of wealth over the years. This helped to explain how he had gotten his hands on such a large airship to transport this high priority material.

Mr. Four looked up when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Making his way through the maze of crates was the leader of the mercenaries hired to help defend the materials during the onloading and offloading process. His name was Paul Meyers and he was an old associate of Mr. Four, stretching back through the years.

“How does it go?” Mr. Four asked as Meyers pulled out a seat and sat down at the table.
“Very well, very well,” Meyers said as he picked up one of the newspapers and started looking it over, “we’ll be within city limits in about an hour.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Four took a big bite out of his apple and immediately regretted it. A large part of the apple had rotted into the brown much. He spit out his mouthful before diving back in.
“Have you seen this?” Meyers asked, holding up one of the papers.
“I’ve read them all,” Mr. Four said, “which one are you talking about?”
“That interview with Alejandro Tos. Interesting how he’s just now decided to appear, what with everything going on—”
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Four asked, looking up at these last words, “is there something big going on that I’m not aware of?”
“Oh no,” Meyers said, a bit caught off guard, “it’s just that my group has been seeing a bit more business than usual in the past few weeks. And people are booking us in advance, which is quite strange. Haven’t had that for several years now. Not that I’m one to complain about good business. Just seems like Grand Central is starting to wake up a bit. Groups other than the corporations are looking to make a profit.”
“Ahh…” Mr. Four said, trailing off, “so I’m going to have to start fighting people off if I need to get ahold of my top mercenaries?” Mr. Four grinned.
“You’ll always be our top customer,” Meyers said, returning the smile, “Consider yourself our one and only ‘gold’ member.” The conversation trailed off into silence.

But the silence didn’t last for long. Suddenly there was the sound of a Gatling gun followed by the tink, tink, tink noise of bullets punching through metal. A small explosion rippled through the ship and it shuddered from the force. Mr. Four was knocked off his crate and Meyers fell over backwards in his chair.

“Boarders!” someone yelled through the cargo hold. Meyers quickly got back up, grabbing his rifle in the process. Mr. Four picked himself up off the ground and took off after Meyers, making his way through the crates to where the other mercenaries were assembling.

“They took out the engines,” one of the mercenaries said as Meyers and Mr. Four came closer to the group of huddled men.
“Did anyone see who they were?” Meyers asked.
“I know who it is,” Mr. Four said before any of the men could answer. “There’s only one group that would know our transport route, let alone be bold enough to board us. 

At that moment there was another explosion that shook the ship, blasting a hole that opened up the cargo bay to the outside atmosphere. Both Mr. Four and the mercenaries jumped behind various crates, training their weapons on the new point of entry. Within seconds several pirates were popping through the hole and finding cover of their own. Several shots rang out from both sides, punching through the wood of the crates and throwing up dust and splinters. It was a small firefight, but it was all the more dangerous when fought amongst crates that carried weapons and ammunition. Several screams were heard from both sides as bullets found their marks. Mr. Four had to stay put and watch as traces of light flew over his head, back and forth and back and forth.

How ironic that I have no weapon amidst one of the largest weapon caches… he thought to himself. His thoughts were soon interrupted by a massive explosion within the cargo bay. Some stray bullet had managed to penetrate one of the explosives crate and the ensuing destruction was quite a scene. Fires started up everywhere and ammo started to cook off, shooting off even more bullets within the bay.

“If the ship hasn’t caught fire yet, it soon will!” Mr. Four heard Meyers yelling over the racket.
“You’re right! I think it’s about time we got out of here!” Mr. Four yelled back.

The ensuing explosion was a sight to see. People from miles around heard the bang as the flammable gas onboard the airship went up. Many watched as the flaming giant came crashing to the ground.

[Doomsday]

"Ah. No we haven't," he responded while offering a hand. "I'm Bernard McLean. You can just call me Bernie, if ya like," he offered cordially, matching pace with the man. "Crime? Oh." Bernie looks down to the pin on his lapel. The small pin is of a four-leaf clover with a small, stylized crown atop one of the leaves. Its emerald and gold trim glittering in the morning sun. "Guess you noticed the pin. Hard not to I suppose. I don't particularly use children for spying, but you're not entirely wrong, either. I also doubt a lawman would care about anyone who couldn't pay his bribe or would make him rich. Wait... did you say you were a contractual saboteur? Are you Fire... fire something. Boss has hired you a few times in the past, I think. Could be wrong. Firefly, that's it. I don't need anything blown up at the moment, your conversation just seemed interesting and, well, I can't really let it go when someone treats a kid unkindly. But if you ever change your mind about your business though, my organization could always use a handy guy like you. Wouldn't even need to be a front line guy. Putting that aside, how about I treat ya to a drink sometime? As an apology and a chance to hear some more interesting stories."

[Raz]

Leo was practically forced to watch the airships pass overhead, thinking to himself, Dey def'nitely wasn't no transports... Wondah what dey is up ta? Then, remembering where he was, he looked down to the vehicle to notice an astonished bandit's head gawking at where the airship had been. Reflexively shouldering his rifle, Leo fired off a quick shot that took the top of the man's head off. Two left...

He continued to climb down, keeping a careful eye on the wreck as he approached it slowly, swinging his rifle by the strap onto his back and pulling out his special sighted pistol for medium range encounters. As the wreck became larger and larger, the wind began to kick up sand, and Leo casually thought, Bettah not be a sand storm startin'... However, the increasing wind did have the effect of muffling Leo's steps in the sand, meaning he could maintain the element of surprise while being so exposed. That, and the fact that the bandits had probably emptied their intestines in terror at the thought of the sniper taking their head off probably meant they weren't exactly jumping on the chance to look around in the direction of Leo.

As he came around the left side of the wreck, Leo switched to his normal, non-telescopic-sighted, pistol, and he saw one of the bandits in a prone position, desperately searching for any canteens that weren't punctured. The man didn't hear the sound of Leo's pistol fire before the bullet entered his skull.

Leo rounded the corner of the capsized steamer, and spotted a man clutching his rifle, practically chanting, "Spare me." Leo silently creeped in front of the man, examining him. He seemed to be younger than the others, less grizzled and perhaps a new recruit. Leo weighed the options in his mind, trying to consider whether or not the kill the young man. Then, he decided to speak, "Yah evah kill a man, boy?" The young man's eyes flew open, causing him to tighten his grip on his rifle, "Uh... uh... n-no..." Leo stood in front of the bandit, pistol still close enough to react faster than the boy possibly could, "I 'ave... it ain't somethin' anyone should do... yah got a chance, kid, at doin' somethin'." Then he took the rifle from the boy like it wasn't even holding it, threw it out into the desert, and pulled the kid up by the collar, "I was once like yah. Start walkin', dat way," and he nodded in the direction towards the outpost. Slowly, they made their way to village, arriving after a few hours' walk after the Sun had set.

They stopped outside what the center of the outpost, as Leo hanged him a small bag of coins, "Now... yah get yerself out o' 'ere, if I see yah again as a bandit, I'm gonna have ta kill yah. Alrigh'?" The boy nodded, still shaking, and walked into the inn, as Leo looked around the outpost, wondering what was could so important about it. But to him, its importance didn't matter, only that he had prevented its destruction and annihilated another group of bandits.

[Yossitaru]

"What are you doing that your arm needs so much maintenance lately? You haven't been taking those questionable postings have you?" Mary questioned Eric as she did her work.

Staying silent, Eric turned his head away from her and looked out the window to see an airship off in the distance.

"You are, aren't you?" She asked again as she violently closed the panel build on the back of his arm.

"Gah!" He yelled in pain and turn his head back to meet her face, but she had already turned around to gather up her tools, "Well, do you really care where I get my money? Especially when I am one of your paying customers."

"About that..." She started as she turned back and saw Eric wasn't there.

Turning back he saw him standing in the doorway.

"Well, I'm actually in the middle of one of those questionable postings right now, stopping here was just a pit stop." He said then ran out the door, "I'll have your money next time, promise!" He called back.

"You better!" She called back at him as she ran at the door and shook the wrench towards him, "And stop taking those dangerous missions..." her voice started to trail off, "one day you might not..." sighing, she slumped against the door frame and watched him disappear in to the city.

Turning towards the poor section of town, Eric pulled a small sheet of paper with a series of instructions written on it.

Good thing I stopped back, this one's starting to feel like a trap...

[Neoadept]

Lazarus' chair danced forward, six feet tapping over the paving stones with delicate precision.  The occasional pedestrian jumped aside as it moved, it's driver preoccupied by the paper he'd bought and only paying half attention to the street.  Several pedestrians did the same as they walked, the difference being that their walk did not involve a quarter ton of steel.

The old man barely noticed the offended shouts from his place in the chair's carriage, smooth metal curving over his near useless legs while they rested comfortably within, delicate pressure plates allowing him to command the vehicle with the slightest movement.  He gritted his teeth at the occasional tremor in his arms.  The vehicle had been balanced so that from his position the ride would be smooth and steady.  The shaking of his arms was the failure of the body, not of design.  He'd have to find a mechanism to replace those, next.


"Interesting..."  A small voice said from within a motor carriage, hidden by the newspaper spread before him, "this Alejandro person speaks again."  The paper was folded away with care, revealing a boy in his early teens.  His garb seemed overly formal, the small suit and top hat seemingly ridiculous on someone who could still be called a child.  But his bearing indicated that while not comfortable, he well deserved the attire, perhaps was used to something even more austere.

"Ah, Alejandro," answered an older man in similar attire seated opposite the boy.  "And tell me, what is the lesson in his story?"

"That...  Is a complicated question," the boy answered.  "I believe I will have to consider the answer for a time."

"A simpler one, then, until you can answer the former.  How do we benefit from the robbery at Grand Central?"

The boy closed his eyes in thought for a moment before answering, "we buy into Moorcock Security, gaining as significant a share as we reasonably can in anticipation of the takeover.  While many private owners will likely look to other firms shortly, the city's government has grown comfortable with the partnership, and interest will inevitably return.  Even in the event that they lose the contract, a liaison with the company will allow us access to certain pieces of information."

"Well reasoned," the man nodded, "we shall see if your logic holds up to reality."

[martyk]

"Mornin' sir" said the young newsie at the door.  "I've got the day's paper for you here Mr. Keringer."

"Ah, thank you my boy." Ian said with a quick smile, handing him the usual fee before turning back inside.  Good kid.  Rain or shine, he had not failed to deliver the daily paper to Ian's door every morning, and Ian paid him accordingly for his trouble.  He'd go places with a good work ethic like that.

Opening up the paper, Ian began leafing though it as he made his way back upstairs to his workshop, eventually settling down out on the balcony where a cup of tea already awaited him.  Taking a sip, he breathed the damp morning air as an article caught his eye.

"So," he said to nobody in particular, "Alejandro is back in the open.  I really should speak with him, clear the air after that awfull business those years ago."  He let out a long sigh as he let his eyes wander to the horizon, where a large airship slowly drifted towards the city.  He watched it's sereine form for a few minutes before it suddenlly burst into flames an plumeted from the sky.

"Well," he muttered, shaking his head for the poor fellows that would have to deal with that problem, "never a dull moment in Central."

[Krakow Sam]

"Oh no, I don't drink. Terribly bad for you. Terribly bad. And here is where I get off. Good day gangster."

Firefly lengthened his stride and hurried away from the mobster and rounded a corner to where the hangar stood. It was unusual having a fixed place of work and a regular schedule, it grated against Firefly's sensibilities a little. But needs must he supposed. He gave a nod to the security man guarding the door when he offered his usual cheery hello and vaulted a little stiffly over the lowered barrier that kept people from parking carts in the yard which served as the landing zone for airships and balloons.

[Gorman Conall]

Benjamin stood atop the highest floor of his mansion staring out of the window, his home sat atop a mountain a small distance away from town. The view was beautiful and he could see parts of the city from the lookout. For the last two years he was content in simply living in luxury as he always did, but as of late he had been spending more and more time in his study and the highest window. His childhood dreams he used to have in the orphanage were flowing back to him and questions started to arise. His father never told him how he was so rich, why he was never allowed to leave the mansion and play with the other children, or why he himself never left the mansion. When ever they needed supplies Carl sent one of the hired staff to run in to town.

That is, until the day of his death when he had left the mansion for the first time since Ben's adoption. He was nervous and sweaty that day and he banned Ben from following him. Hours passed followed by days and Carl never returned, a week later and his body was found suspended from a clock tower. He had been murdered.

None of the staff seemed to be able to, or want to answer any of Ben's questions. In the mansion was collection of guns, blades and gadgets that hung on the walls like decorations. None of which Ben had any idea how to use, but there was no photos, no paintings nothing that linked to Carl's past. Beneath the mansion through a tunnel system was the Bartholomeus vast Treasury, another unanswered question, why Carl never kept his money in a bank.

Finally breaking away from his deep thought he climbed down the stairwell where Jensen the butler was waiting on him. "Sir, are you all right?" he questioned. "Oh yes, I apologize for worrying you" Ben walked over and swung open a door, he pulled out a black tuxedo jacket and threw it over his white dress shirt. He grabbed his top hat from the coat rack and placed it atop his head. Finally he grabbed his cane. "Jensen...I want to take a stroll in to town today...but.."  Ben stopped "You don't know how to drive the steam carriage, allow me to get my coat Sir" Jensen finished.