MAGNIFICA

ViceVersus

The character on the box art.
Helios Line is PROUD to bring you the LATEST, LARGEST, and MOST LUXURIOUS passenger airship to CLAIM these skies.

MAGNIFICA! Queen of the Horizon

LENGTH: 9881/2 feet | EFFORTLESS Tonnage | LIVE LIKE GODS in the sky

NEW SUMTER **** CARROWAY **** EMERALD ISLES ****NEW BRISMON ****

WEDNESDAY, ARIO 8th
Wax paper crinkled as Alysanne Prior tore an unladylike chunk out of an airship-shaped funnel cake. It was the first chance she'd had to eat all day. She brushed cinnamon sugar from her lips, eyes skyward as she plunged through the crowd.

Around her, carriage doors slammed and voices mingled with the hum of invention. At eye-level, citizens of New Sumter clamored and crowded, forming queues as gestured by Helios Line officials.

"BOARDING PASSES READY!" the roars overlapped in different temperaments and accents. Alys weaved through passengers, entertainers, and those who were simply there to witness the spectacle of the launch. "BOARDING PASSES OUT! AND! READY!"

Chewing furiously, Alysanne balled up the wax paper. She found a trash bin, overflowing with plates, streamers, and pretend-boarding passes. Alys made the mistake of hesitating for one moment as she pressed the paper ball into the mess.

"Madame Prior!" the voice announced itself with the hot burst of a camera flash. Alysanne raised a hand to shield her eyes. She recognized the harsh, clipped bark of a reporter. "Madame Prior -- a word on today's launch!"

"No comment, no comment!" Alysanne turned, pressing back the way she had come. She heard a clattering, the reporter was following her.

"YOUR word, Alys, not your father's!"

Alysanne whirled around, maroon cowl cape spinning. The young man following her did not match the voice. He was too small for his gray suit, and the shiny press pin seemed to weigh him down. But he smiled at her, lopsided, even as passengers surged around them.

"Buy yourself a boarding pass, then ask me all the questions you like once we're underway!" the Prior heir said in her precise, not quite curt manner.

All around them, a sharp tweeee, and the enormous blades of the MAGNIFICA began to twirl. The keening sound of the engines was something that Alysanne had known her whole life. A collective gasp went up from the crowd - most of the civilians knew airships, but nothing the size and ambition of the MAGNIFICA.

The MAGNIFICA was simply too large to port on New Sumter's airdock as normal. In the days preceeding the maiden voyage, special platforms had to be constructed to support the weight of passengers making the transition from Sumter to the luxury passenger airship. Alysanne, the daughter of Helios owner Camden Prior, and noted inventor had engineered the platforms herself which was part of her anxiety as the thronging spectators grew and grew.

But the platforms were not the only part of the MAGNIFICA'S maiden voyage that was causing her and her father stress. Counterfeit boarding passes, unrest in the upper and lower sects of Sumter, jealous competition from other airship lines, and even threats of governmental corruption in the province were all convening in the launch of the Magnifica. The Magnifica's maiden voyage would take her from New Sumter to the region capitol of Carroway, to the tourist destination of the Emerald Isles, and then finally to New Brismon. Everything had come down to this day, to these two weeks.

Alysanne flounced away from the thin-faced reporter, mind still on every detail of the launch. There was so much more on the line than just her father's reputation, or the reputation of Helios Line. Some days, Alys wondered if her father's hubris would be the best of him - and what consequences that might have for their passengers.

The Magnifica gave another tweeeee, and this time only cheers went up, there was no apprehension. Alysanne made strides towards the gangway, to head back onto the ship. Soon boarding would commence, and there would be nothing more for her to do.

This may be the happiest moment of my father's life Alys thought to herself, mutinously, drawing back the maroon cowl cape to check the watch built into her arm. Soon. Things would be moving soon. Including the day I was born. So let's make this count ..

As the crowd surged and celebrated the launch like a festival, not all were happy. Some plotted and schemed the downfall of Sumter, its provinces, its companies, and beyond. The key to many machinations funneled through the floating paradise of the Magnifica, which was soon to make itself a humming hive of "who's who" and nobodies.

MAGNIFICA, Queen of the Horizon

And so the journey would begin ..
 
Tonic stood by the platforms. It was a clockwork, given strict orders to keep the peace over the crowd. A lot of drama had been surrounding Magnifica's maiden voyage. Officers would be placed in the vessel for sure, but nothing was more intimidating than a several hundred pound hunk of bronze. Tonic was that of a cylindrical design, almost all limbs being made of them. Two glowing eyes were embedded within its visor. Two stocking feet with two toes, as well as one right bulky arm with only two fingers and a thumb. Its left arm was that of an advanced steam gun, capable of firing of a higher rate than other standard firearms.

It gave a salute to Prior as she passed, having been given the two identities of who it should protect most. Alysanne Prior and her father. With its life, it would protect theirs, unconditionally. Still, it wasn't an entirely emotionless machine. Whether by design or by mistake, it had free-will of a kind. Perhaps even of what some called emotion?

Tonic was one of the last ones aboard the ship. No major incidents occurred. All was according to plan. Once the ship had finally made its departure, Tonic and the rest of the guard took their posts.

Carroway was home to a rival company. With the announcement of the Magnifica, they too began their own race to create the largest vessel possible. Vex Skies, the company in question, ran into a fatal flaw during their rushed development, and the ship never even made it through its first test. To them, being visited by the Magnifica was simply an insult to injury. It made Tonic wonder if the company would do anything about it.
 
Even with the MAGNIFICA moving, off the ground, Alysanne could not relax. She stood at one of the ship's 18 wide decks, with other first-class passengers, her fingers curled around the bronze-plated railing. Wind whipped at her shoulder-length hair, and her eyes watered from the sun. She watched New Sumter fade away. The city reminded her of a closed fist of bristling metal bursting out of the ground in defiance to the sky. Wisps of clouds crossed her field of vision. Sumter was her home, despite its chaos, its corruption, and the sharp - often violent - dissonance between those who had, and those who had-not.

"Disgusting place, isn't it, my dear? I should be glad to be rid of it!" the small, squad, balding, rumpled man with thick black-rimmed glasses had wandered over to Alysanne. This was John Parshwen "JP" Astor, a multi-billionaire investor, banking mogul, and one of the most influential men not only in New Sumter, but its sister city New Brismon. JP was lecherous and ugly, propped up by his money. The man's thick rings caught the light of the sun. He held a slim flute of champagne.

"Lovely weather for a launch, though." was Alysanne's reply. She leaned against the railing, looking back over the deck. The woman (was it a woman?) who stood at Astor's side took her aback. The woman was enormous, over six feet tall, with a sheet of silver hair, green eyes, black-tattooed lips, a horrible scar criss-crossing her face. She wore a silver, black, and blue trenchcoat stylized with metal accents. It flapped open in the wind, revealing one biomechanical leg, and one arm. It was not polite to stare at those with body-mods, but these seemed so deliberate that Alysanne chewed the inside of her lip. This woman had not undergone the dark procedure due to medical emergency. This was a biohacker.

"How impolite of me! Miss Prior, this is Iosine Lammergeier - my companion," Astor laughed and stepped back. Iosine made hard eye contact with the Prior heir, and her arm shot out in a handshake that seemed more like an attack.

"Pleasure," Alysanne snatched her hand back as quickly as possible - Iosine's grip truly was like a vice. "Not like your other companions I have heard so much about, Mr. Astor."

JP gave a bubbly, wet chuckle, draining the rest of his champagne while Iosine continued to stare Alys down, as though contemplating the amount of effort it would take to spill her over the deck down to the second-class gathering below. "No, not quite as .. delicious, I must admit. But I had hoped to show her off to my old friend Arnold. As the Lady of the Ship, my dear Alysanne, might you know where he is?"

If JP Astor was a major player in that modern world, Arnold Guggenheim was the player, the undisputed financial top-dog, investment king when it came to wealth and emerging tech. The enigmatic multi-billionaire had a special relationship to Alys and her family's company, Helios Line - one that Alys didn't like to think about too much. Guggenheim was the major investor in Helios Line, so much so that it was due to his money that Camden's vision had been realized. Helios Line owed the MAGNIFICA to Guggenheim, to the point where Guggenheim's investment in a young, brilliant scientist and inventor who had invented the makings of a renewable power resource had allowed the MAGNIFICA to harness some of that early technology, and boast itself as an airship of "permanent, clean flight" without needing to stop for fuel.

As to where he was, Alys frowned.

"Mr. Guggenheim requested the Droullard apartments for the journey. When on the wharf, I saw his luggage - marked with his initials and state crest - flown up on their own platform. I have not seen him personally. But many have felt his presence."

"Ah, yes, his presence," Astor wheezed into a laugh. Iosine shifted her dissecting gaze from Alysanne to a look of disgust at her employer. "Doesn't Arnold like a good tug? Shame that he's not here then, of all places, on his own ship while the rest of us sorry sods drink his alcohol and enjoy the company of his beautifu things.

And Alys had to agree that fact was strange, that Guggenheim was not present on the first-class deck. The MAGNIFICA had over 2,500 staterooms of varying design and size, 1300 ballrooms, a deep swimming pool, a royal theater for grand productions, expansive suite apartments designed attentively by modern and classical interior decorators - it was considered the ultimate luxury playground. If you were worth anything to society in that day, whatever the industry, you had a first-class ticket on the MAGNIFICA, and you were either here on the deck waving farewell to New Sumter, or you were enjoying the many pleasures the airship had to offer.

"Perhaps Mr. Guggenheim is playing the grand piano in his suite. Or enjoying the casino," Alysanne answered with a little bit of sour, as she felt she was being asked a question she had no possible answer to. Iosine's green eyes clapped back onto the girl, and she felt uncomfortable. "Mr. Guggenheim made such an obscene contribution to the making of this dream, that perhaps he would prefer not to have a big deal made of it."

Astor was roaring in laughter before Alys even finished her sentence. She flushed. It was a foolish thing. Guggenheim had built entire opera houses on the fancy of women he was seeing. As a jest, he snapped up an entire toothpaste washing-up fluid company, Goog, when they went public simply because it amused him that their name was similar to his. Guggenheim's name was on the lips of every would-be inventor, investor, man or woman with a dream. He was enigmatic and thrived on attention. As Alysanne looked around the deck at the mish-mash of cultures, industries, men, women, clockworks - she realized that this group of people were connected by only two things: their money, and the fact that they wanted a word with Arnold Guggenheim.

Alysanne first looked at Iosine, then to Astor.

"He is fond of being fashionably late. Perhaps there shall be a grand entrance."

Astor made a face as though he had tasted something sour. He flung his empty champagne glass over the rail to the lower-class gathering below

"We shall see, Madame Prior. But I think we both already know."
 
Tonic was officially part of the guard, yes, that much his creator had managed to get right. What he didn't tell Tonic was the sheer size of the MAGNIFICA. Protecting the ship would be very tricky with the amount of ground to cover. Not to mention, clockworks were viewed as working machines, guards, beings without proper rights. It wouldn't be easy trying to walk in places allocated to the top elite, or attempting to investigate occurrences that it deemed necessary. Still, it had to try if it came to it. For now, its duty was to obey orders.

Officer Dreckler was in charge of the main reception area and the staff there in. "Clockwork," said Dreckler, "you're making everyone nervous. Why don't you fish Kulp from his quarters? Send him here, and then make yourself scarce. In fact, head off to storage. I don't know why he need a heavy military clockwork in here anyway," he wasn't fond of the mechanical contraptions. Obviously the damn clockwork being sent to the reception area as its post was a dumb idea. It'd be unsightly. If anything, a servitor clockwork would be a better substitute. But you couldn't talk to a clockwork anyway. Not in the traditional sense. If it wasn't a pre-programmed response, then it would just spit out an error. Dumb machines.

"Yes sir," replied Tonic, promptly turning and heading for the guards' quarters. For such a large ship, several emergency barracks were placed throughout to handle emergencies, or the unruly patron. For the most part, they only expected to deal with drunks and patrons with a stick up their ass. Tonic went to the quarters that was linked to the reception, and looked up the directory for Kulp. Everyone's name had their rank displayed next to it, and was organized by rank rather than alphabetical order. Kulp was on the very bottom with the lowest rank possible. Tonic paused for a moment, making sure it had read the name correctly. That was a bit insulting, being replaced by the lowest ranking member of the team. Still, orders were orders. It marched off into to the designated room before pounding on the door.

"Kulp? Your presence is request," Tonic stated. Only silence greeted it, "Kulp?" more silence, "I'm coming in."

The door swung open, the lock having not been used in the first place. There was Kulp in the bed with nothing but his bottoms on, surrounded by several bottles. Tonic surmised that his rich parents got him a post on the MAGNIFICA. Everyone else had a high rank, and this kid had already succumbed to the various offerings the vessel had to offer. Tonic stomped over shaking the bed, giving Kulp quite the scare.

"Ah! Oh gods! No! It isn't what it looks like!" Kulp dribbled, "Shit shit shit I'm sorry! Er, I..."

Tonic interrupted him, "Dreckler wants you in reception. Now."

Kulp nodded, "I'm going! I'm going! Just... give me a minute..."

Tonic left, closing the door behind it, giving a small laugh. It headed off again, but not towards storage. Spare clockworks were kept there, shutdown until needed elsewhere, and it had no intention on letting itself go. At least this presented an opportunity to do as it pleased for the moment. If Dreckler found out, it'd simply state that it received new orders. For now, it'd patrol the hallways keeping a watchful vigil.

The hallways were large and spacious, and yet it all still felt cramped with the amount of traffic they were supposed to sustain. Benches laid on the sides of the walkways, and large windows gave the interior of the lower decks plenty of sunlight. Servitor clockworks were sometimes in the crowd, mainly picking up after the trash that people were too lazy to find an appropriate bin for. In fact, a glass had just landed right on top of Tonic, breaking as it did. It stopped walking, picking a piece of the glass off the ground before looking up. Three individuals were at the top, one it recognized immediately, that being Alysanne. It also recognized Astor, but the third it had never seen before. Given the treatment sometimes given to clockworks, it made the assumption that one of them pegged it on purpose.

Tonic gave them a long look, before tossing the shard of glass aside into a bin and stomping off again. At least now it knew where the general area of Prior was, but it doubted that its presence was welcome at the moment.
 
Peals of laughter rang out over the second-class skydeck. Star Tribune junior reporter Petyr Holmes drew a small crowd of families, joking and chatting as he snapped pictures. He made an odd nucleus to this atom of attention, tidy in a blue suit and slicked hair. His natural charm amplified by the camera around his neck, and the press badge tucked into his front pocket.

From behind the viewfinder, Petyr complimented ladies' sunhats and jewelry. He shook hands with men, and made brief, intelligent remarks about their industries. He tweaked the noses of children, he made airship sounds and spread his arms wide. He snapped frame after frame, smiled like a monkey. And he hated every second of it.

The Star Tribune had sent him to record and report what life was like aboard the MAGNIFICA, Helios Lines's luxurious airship, on its much-discussed maiden voyage. However, the paper had only come up with money for a second-class ticket. That wasn't enough.

Petyr didn't care a whip about families, upper-middle managers, or the slightly well-off enough to afford to travel. No -- he was here for the real catches, the whales, the movers & shakers currently less than sixty feet over his head on the private first-class deck. He wanted the drama between inventors and investors of Sumter, Carroway, of that age and era. That was what the Star Tribune should really be reporting. How close he was made Petyr grit his teeth.

A champagne flute sailed down from the first-class deck, glass glinting, striking a massive clockwork as it shuffled by. The wheels in Petyr's mind clicked, thinking about military-grade clockworks on a recreation flight .. but just then, some good fortune came his way.

A large platform zoomed in from the ballroom double-doors out onto the public dec, floated by spinning blades cunningly and safely housed in its bronze chassis. Draped in a silk cloth and dappled with roses, the platform was stacked high with a large display of champagne bottles in rows. Each bottle was emblazoned with AG in curly gold letters on white. A general cry of delight went up, and the small crowd around Petyr and his camera began to disperse, magnetized by free alcohol.

"Compliments of Arnold Guggenheim! He wishes that you all enjoy yourselves aboard the MAGNIFICA!" a butler in a trim white suit with gold metal accents cried to the crowd, which mostly ignored him, surging instead for the bottles.

Petyr flipped the doors of his camera shut, stepping smartly around those too polite to not burst forward. He seized a bottle by its foil neck, and disengaged from the second-class sheep in time to follow the white-suit butler and slip in behind him as the ballroom doors closed.

Petyr blinked several times to get his bearings. The interior was much less lit than the sun-blasted skydeck. He stowed the champagne into a flap of his leather carrying bag, and strode purposefully along the tall, arched, latticework ballroom windows.

Around him, staff were setting the many tables for the welcome dinner that would be held later that night. A few crew members looked at Petyr quizzically, but he continued on. The key to anything was looking like you're meant to be there.

The butler continued on, pulling off his white hat, and stowing it under an arm. He pushed through the galley doors to the kitchen. Entry point one. Petry smiled, keeping to the perimeter of the ballroom, exiting to the lobby area just outside.

Petyr heard the sound of water. A crystal water fountain tinkled at him in the center of a mostly empty reception area. Marble statues dotted the area, women in demure poses, men standinding as warriors. Hands in his pockets, leather bag slung around him one way and his camera the other, Petyr kept a neutral look on his face as he continued the rest of his self-guided tour.

One thing about Petyr that had served him well and caused him to rise so quickly at the Star was his affect. He was young, clean-shaven, boyish. He did not have a strong chin, and therefore people did not find him intimidating. As they did not find him intimidating, they allowed themselves to be charmed, and those that allowed themselves to be charmed could be influenced. Petyr was instantly affable, a skilled flatterer able to connect with those around him. And Petyr had every intention of using these skills to make himself a first-class regular.

Reading the MAGNIFICA's ship layout served him well. Petyr wandered to the fore of the airship, listening to the humming and clinking of a renewable-energy powered airship until he found the door that he wanted. It was in an undecorated hall that he'd found stepping to the side away from the staterooms. Petyr squared his shoulders, and banged loudly on the white riveted door, which swung open almost immediately.

"A'wight, a'wight, you don' have ta -- " the bunched-up, sour face of one of the ship's cooks unfolded into surprise. "Beg pardon, sir, you have the wrong -- "

"What're we playing, boys?" Petyr stuck a foot against the port door before it could close. This was the ship pot-wash, a long, steamy, smelly metal room with 3-4 sheepish-looking young man in white smocks of varying levels of cleanliness sitting around the largest overturned pot he had ever seen, dealing cards. Petyr reached behind him, and withdrew the gold-foiled bottle of champagne and waggled it enticingly. "Room for another?"
 
"Shit, shit-- ow! How many steam valves does a fucking airship need?"

Kester stuck his finger in his mouth, scowling as he tried to soothe the scalded skin. The plan had sounded so simple on paper. Stow away in the cargo hold, and then find a service hatch and shimmy up to one of the main decks through the belly of the beast. It was supposed to be easy. He'd seen the ship's plans, after all! A version of them. A simple, incomplete version, but a version nonetheless! He only wished that the damn thing had included a colour-coded map of which of the handholds in this damned whirring deathtrap were going to burn his poor, sensitive fingers. He needed those. How was he going to pickpocket if his hands were rendered clumsy by callouses?

Of course, if everything went to plan this week, he wouldn't need to pickpocket anymore. There were enough rich bastards in opulent jewellery on the MAGNIFICA to set him up to live like a king for the rest of his life. Or if not a king, at least a moderately wealthy member of the middle class, and after this many years on the streets... that was close enough to royalty, as far as Kester was concerned. He'd settle for a roof over his head that didn't come at the price of doing the dirty work of men like Balko and Lamm.

"Better hope they don't find out I'm here, eh?" He muttered to nobody in particular. His words rebounded around the metallic maintenance shaft for a while, before being swallowed by the chugging of engines and the occasional toot of steam. It was a good thing he was a skinny little shit, or this would be going even more wrong than it already was. Only a few more metres to go. C'mon, Kester. Shimmy like your life depends on it, 'cos it probably does.

With a heave, the youth pushed himself a little further up the side of the tunnel. He tentatively poked at a pipe, determined that it wasn't hot, and grasped it to pull himself up some more. Worn old shoes found purchase on dials and ridges, and inch by inch, little by little, the would-be master thief ascended toward his destination.

The panel into the maintenance shaft burst outwards into the corridor with an entirely unsubtle clang, as a bundle of limbs and curse words spilled forth to land in a heap on the floor. Kester sprawled on his back, grimy blonde hair spilling out in a messy halo on the carpet below him as he stared up at the elegantly lit ceiling and took a few long moments just to breathe in the cooler air of the ship proper. His raggedy old top clung to his slight frame, sodden with sweat. He was probably going to leave a damp patch, but right now he didn't care. His face split in a grin, and he laughed delightedly, fist-pumping the air.

He was in.

Before too long, he decided to peel himself off of the carpet before someone came by and saw him there. He swung the hatch into the maintenance shaft shut behind him, and propped himself up on the wall to get his bearings. Alright, first things first. Steal a change of clothes... he paused, tilting his head down towards himself and sniffing ... and a shower. Not gonna blend in nowhere like this.

Pushing off the wall and starting down the corridor, the youth casually twisted the handle of the first door he came across, and was entirely startled when the door swung open and he stumbled inside. He looked up. The room wasn't empty.

"Oh."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Er... room service?"
 
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Kulp was caught with his pants down. Literally. After he was jarred awake from the heavy clockwork, he took several minutes to get his bearings before stumbling to his uniform in a crumpled mess on the ground. He had only managed to get his shirt on when the door was opened again. He just stared into the man's eyes with a blank look. This day just kept getting better and better.

"Aaah!" Kulp finally squeaked, "I'm so sorry!" he picked up his pants off the ground and trying his best to pull them up, "I-I didn't know the guards got room service! Uh... I'm on my way out right now, actually! S-sorry for the mess," Kulp hastily slipped out of the room, grabbing his gun and clipping the side of the door as he did.

The room was a wreck. Bottles of expensive beer on the ground, trousers on the unkempt mattress, and a certificate of his graduation just right above it. Aside for the mess, the room was crafted with the same diligence and craftsmanship as the rest of the MAGNIFICA. There were a few valuables around the room. Mainly in the form of alcoholic drinks. Several watches were stuffed in a drawer, as well as a few ducats. A few fancy clothes were still kept folded with a suitcase, with another two tossed to the side. Kulp himself had a coin purse hanging off of his back pocket that jingled on his way out.

Kulp burst through the room again moments later, "Sorry! Forgot my belt!" he said, doing just that before leaving.

...

Tonic wasn't really amused with the whole champagne glass over the head deal. As with most places with the hustle and bustle, most didn't even blink an eye. Only a few bothered to lift an eye, and even fewer considered it a noteworthy event. Any attention on the clockwork would be diverted to another in the form of even more bottles and wine. Tonic stopped, the surge of people blocking its path. There were more hands than bottles, and a few even walked away with two bottles in each hand, clinging to them by their necks. It was even sure some of the younger passengers snuck a few bottles. As quickly as the crowd surged, it dispersed. It was surreal, in a way. One moment and then the next, only changing for an instant. Tonic mused of whether or not these free gifts would continue, or whether it was only because this was the first day.

A few other clockworks came out shortly after, not with wine but with pamphlets and tickets, signaling yet another surge. The tickets unlike the wine, weren't free. Quite a steep price actually. One of the many ways of making more money after the initial purchase. Nothing was free was it? Especially not with a lot of rich patrons walking about. Tonic grabbed a pamphlet, before positing itself by a wall for a quick read. Atypical for a military clockwork. The theatre was hosting a play. It was a recent production from a rich but relatively new acting company. They most likely bought their way in, and were hoping to make it all back. The show itself was also a new production. It may be a good thing to watch. At least, to kill some time since nothing was going on for now, aside for hallways too busy to watch with any accuracy. That and falling glass. Tonic had no form of currency however, but maybe it could find a way to get posted nearby? It could lie, but that was a risk. Something not to be wasted on a simple show. Either way, the theatre was held on the top-class deck. If it got pegged from above, it wasn't sure what to expect from just being there. Still, this would be a good test to see what to expect on future visits.

Tonic made its way to the ascending chamber. The stairs steps were too small for its large boots to fit properly. If the lower class decks were beautiful, the upper class decks were simply awe inspiring. Even in the realm of luxury, there were still dramatic differences it seemed. Naturally, the more expensive areas had less people. Considering the amount of attention the MAGNIFICA got, it was probably due to a purposely low amount of tickets dispensed. People valued their space, and the lack of a crowd could let them snob at the lower masses without feeling a part of it. It didn't take too long for people to notice it. Whether that was good or bad, it didn't know. Normally just servitors were here.
 
Well then.

Kester had watched dumbfounded as Kulp barrelled around the room, drunkenly scrambling into - of all things - a security guard's uniform. At first, he'd gone wide-eyed, thinking himself busted from the word go, but as it became increasingly apparent that the young guard was drunk enough that he hadn't noticed Kester's ragged clothing and griminess from wiggling through a greasy maintenance shaft, he let out a sigh of relief.

"No problem, boss," he said with an amused grin as Kulp finally managed to wrestle his way into his clothes. "You just keep up the good work."

The purse was deftly lifted from the man's pocket more out of habit than intent, a small knife flashing to cleanly sever the string holding it in place. Kester tucked his prize away mere moments before the man came dashing back in, giving him yet another fright, only for his goal to be acquiring his belt rather than reclaiming his money. When Kulp was gone - and a glance out into the hallway confirmed he wasn't coming back - Kester allowed himself to finally do what he'd been wanting to since he walked in.

He broke into an unrestrained fit of laughter, propping himself up against the wall and internally praising Ori for that particular stroke of fortune as he giggled. It was a good minute before he recovered himself enough to move more fully into the room, taking in the sights and wrinkling his nose at the pervading scent of alcohol. Still, no matter. It would do just fine. Better than fine, perhaps, he noted to himself as he slid open a wardrobe and spotted a spare uniform. "One ticket to the upper deck, please," he murmured to himself with a grin. "But first..."

Depositing his stolen coinpurse, knife, lockpicks, and what few other odds and ends he'd brought with him onto one of the side-tables, Kester unceremoniously stripped off the rest of his rags and tossed them to the ground, before making his way through to the room's en-suite. He took a few moments to boggle at the luxuriousness of the bathroom, and then a few minutes further to decipher exactly how to make the over-complicated array of dials on the shower cooperate, but before too long the young thief was standing beneath a stream of delightfully hot water and basking in the first proper shower he'd had in ... well, too long.

Just over twenty minutes after entering the room, Kester emerged a changed man. His hair was no longer a straggly blonde mess of knots and twists, now gleaming with freshly conditioned and brushed lustre, and his rags had been replaced with a guard's uniform, that hung only slightly too loosely on his skinny frame. A bag with a set of dress clothes was slung over his shoulder, in case he needed another change of 'disguise' once he was upstairs.

And so, whistling, the thief started down the hallway in search of the nearest elevator up to the upper deck. That's where the good shit would be, after all.
 
On the first evening of the MAGNIFICA's maiden voyage, a grand dinner was to be had in the Concord Ballroom. Although it was located on the second-class deck, it was the MAGNIFICA's largest single-room space. The Concord took advantage of the towering heights that the interior of such a mighty luxury-class airship offered, boasting 40-foot statues, a retractable latticework skylight, and gold inlay onto cool marble slabs so wide that one could hardly see their seams. The Concord felt like luxury in a way that every cog, crevice, and cranny of the MAGNIFICA truly was .

Much to-do had been made of the fact that this dinner was open for first class and second class passengers. There were some first-class ticket holders who had scoffed the idea of "mingling" with those of second class, but any member of high society would sooner have the "normals" around to feel superior to than snip and spar with other members of the social elite of their same tier. And so there was a "high table" of sorts set aside where the first-class passengers were seated, a ways away from the round tables of the other passengers.

Alysanne Prior had either the great misfortune, or criminal delight of being sat next to Noralei Winnov, widow of Brownwen Winnov, coal-mining king. Coal-fired steam engines were fast dying to those powered by natural gas. Neither engine powered the MAGNIFICA, which instead found all 14 of its magnapropellors energized by a mysterious clean, renewable energy source created by a crack shot inventor, whose talent Anorld Guggenheim had on a leash that looked remarkably like purse strings.

Noralei Winnov was in her late 80s, bitter, loud, thin, and bound to a wheelchair. A figure in cartoonish proletariat form, she was as wrinkled, profane, and rude as the Star Tribune columns made her out to be. To Alysanne, she resembled a queen bee, for the aging matriarch was attended ("attacked!!") by no less than eight flying clockworks the size of a fist, made of brass, with thin, delicate spindly arms that actually made them look more like flying spiders than anything. The clockworks buzzed and flitted around her constantly, adjusting her shawl, darting out of the way of her angry swipes.

When Alysanne had sat down, modestly formal in a maroon A-line dress with black accents, black leather boots, her mother's silver necklace, and hair swept to the side in a long braid tied with silver strands, Noralei was shouting about murder.

"ABSURD I say!" Noralei screeched, swatting again at the clockworks. They buzzed on iridescent wings. "Absurd. Putting an old woman like me on a contraption like this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're trying to kill me. There's cheaper ways to do it, that let me stay on the ground. Just stifle me with a pillow, good as done! But not one of the nice pillows, if you have any sense."

"M-Mother!" Arleth Winnov, Noralei's youngest adult son (watery-eyed, stammery, pale, pink, with limp hay-colored hair) appeared mortified.

"Oh, don't be precious," Noralei snapped. As soon as Alysanne sat down, she glanced around looking for her father, and fell under the Winnov widow's stare. "What are you? What's your name."

"Prior," Alysanne wasn't sure if she should formulate a compliment, a question, or allow herself to be shouted at. "My father -- "

"Yes, yes, I know all about him," Noralei trilled. Her hand shook as she pointed. "I saw them, you know. On the ship. I know what they're planning, wouldn't you like to know!"

"Mother, now, please!" Arleth, who the Star Tribune drew as so weak-chinned that his neck became his nose, unfolded his napkin with a flutter, a non-inheriting son's single symbol of outrage.

Just then, the pre-show entertainment began - a dazzling dance & song put on by the theater troup taking residence in the MAGNIFICA's theater. Alysanne tuned out immediately once the message of the show became abundantly clear. Here on the MAGNIFICA, you are touching the sky - as the gods once did. By purchasing a ticket to join us on the MAGNIFICA [and hopefully purchasing more things when on board] you are separating yourself from those pathetic idiots still on the ground. Thank you for investing in the future.

Alysanne stared at her reflection in the perfect silver plate that sat before her. She looked up. Her father was seated many seats to her left. She wasn't at his side, but she had intended it to be that way. She was sure Zane Filsen, her father's albino, pink-eyed first mate, had urged him to leave the bridge and attend the first dinner held on the maiden voyage of his dream, the MAGNIFICA.

It wasn't that she didn't care about the ship. She cared very much. She had pored so much of herself into its planning, its details. She just had been part of the process for so long, part of its inception. She was there in the tender moments when the airship had originally been named Claudia, after her mother....

...And she had been there when investors, inventors, and those with their own interests had started putting in their "oars" so to speak. When the MAGNIFICA began to grow and grow and no longer reflect the vision of a widower and his daughter.

Those thoughts made her mood dark. A red curtain swept back at the edge of the Concord, revealing the 8-armed bartender clockwork affectionately named "Cali." There were many oohs and aahs, even from a few first-class members who had serving clockworks in their manses already. Cali was a massive unit, concentric gear rings making up a large middle. This allowed her to swing around, arms dancing as she reached within her own cabinets and compartments. As the unit wheeled forward and zipped around the performance space that had been taken up by the opening performers, those in attendance could hear clinking of mixing units and glasses inside.

"Thank Chris," the unladylike pledge slipped out of Alysanne's mouth at the thought of alcohol.

Cali of course made her way to the first-class tables first, even as baskets of bread were distributed by clockwork servers to all guests. Alysanne pushed her plate away, no longer wanting to look at herself. Looking down the table, she recognized only a few faces, some from the papers, some from her youth. Astor was across from her, and a ways down. Alysanne noticed that the monstrosity called Iosine was not with him. Close, no doubt.

She scanned the first-class table again, and a face jumped out at her - the round, clean-shaven face of the reporter who had accosted her the brief moment she had slipped out to the wharf for a snack, when the MAGNIFICA was readying to embark. How on earth his paper had managed a first-class ticket for him, she had no clue.

All in all, a comfortable chaos settled over the ballroom. Alysanne bit the inside of her lip, and sat up a little straighter. She may as well make the most of it. One night down, thirteen more to go.

"You ought to smile. You don't look your age when you smile."

Alysanne glanced over. Noralei leered at her, misinterpreting the reason to the Prior heir's subdued nature. "Oh, don't look so upset. Everyone likes to be looked at, and they don't mean anything by it. Besides, why do we have servants still, and not clockworks? Because deep down we all like it when there are others of flesh and blood who look at us and are jealous."

Alysanne looked back across the Concord. It was true. Some children were standing on tippy-toes, forbidden by their parents to scramble forward. All watching them at the high table.

There was a festive pop. Astor had opened a bottle of champagne, and was pouring it out over Arnold Guggenheim's empty place setting, at the center of the table. Her father looked on, good-natured. Most smiled, many laughed. It was all a show. Alysanne looked past Cali, past the waving arms, past the wide-eyed observers, and out the tall ballroom windows. The sun was settling into a bed of picturesque reds, golds, and oranges that arced across the sky. And not a single person was paying attention.

Red at night Alysanne thought to herself, signaling to Cali for something to put her at ease. Sailor's delight ..
 
It wasn't technically supposed to be there, but Tonic had two good reasons for being there. At least, it thought so. The first reason was that Prior was there. It still wasn't exactly sure why its creator was so concerned of her safety, but this was the duty it was assigned. Sometimes it made Tonic worry why it was assigned. Was it just a precaution, or was there an underlying reason? Either way, it was a hush-hush situation. What it did know was that its creator had done some work with the MAGNIFICA, and naturally had some interest in its well being. Maybe the truth would come in time. The second reason was boredom. This was an interesting event.

Tonic still had the pamphlet in hand, situated near the corner of the enormous interior. While a bit difficult, it could view Prior and the actors from its vantage point. The troop, according to the pamphlet, was new, as well as their act. This became abundantly clear as the act depicted the hyperbolic journey of the creation of the MAGNIFICA. The show centered around a small group of mechanics, working their hardest while witnessing the drama that came about, fictionalized or not. The main players, such as Guggenheim, were never depicted by any actors, but were heavily mentioned in the orders supposedly given. One of the highlights was the energy problem. Heavy yelling, people stumped staring at their chalkboard, when someone burst through with revolutionary clean technology in tow. It was made clear, not only were the revolutionary techniques invented in the creation of MAGNIFICA crucial for its development, but such technology would change the world forever. The troop thanked their audience, having presented a worthy, if somewhat flawed performance. As the troop packed up behind the curtain, a presenter came on stage and congratulated the audience for not only being of stature to board such a vessel, but being a part of history as well.

Throughout it all, clockworks served drinks and food, most notably the one named "Cali." Tonic gave it a good look, appreciating for a moment the craftsmanship put into its creation. Certainly something itself lacked, at least, in terms of achieving an elegant stylish design. An armed clockwork really didn't need to look pretty to be effective. Did these other clockworks have thoughts such as itself? Each one seemed to follow a specific design, never deviating. Tonic itself had pretty much disobeyed several orders already, but could these other ones even consider such actions?

Even with the play, Tonic still had to remain vigilant. One could not lapse in concentration when one was on guard duty. It would occasionally scan the area, making sure that no suspicious activity was present. Although it wasn't assigned to this position, it'd be damned if it didn't perform its duties. It wasn't just protecting a single person, at least, to Tonic it wasn't. The entire ship was under its watch. Any and all threats to the safety to the MAGNIFICA would be dealt with accordingly.

Tick tick tick.
 
The seat to Alysanne's left had remained conspicuously empty even after the performance began, though a place was clearly laid out. It seemed that its intended occupant was running a little more than fashionably late. It wasn't until it finished, and Cali was beginning its rounds, that the chair was hurriedly pulled out and a young man with a head of messy platinum blonde hair dropped into it with a heavy sigh of relief. He was dressed in a navy-and-white tuxedo of obviously fine quality, but his cufflinks were mismatched and his bow tie was slightly askew, giving his appearance a decidedly disorganised edge.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, flashing Alysanne a quick smile. "Was getting an annoying mixup with the seating fixed." The young man offered a hand. "Ah, where are my manners, right? Casey Hart - it's great to finally meet you, Miss Prior!"

As he was speaking, one of the wait-staff drew up behind the passenger one more place to the left, a portly man with more hair in his moustache than in his receding hairline, and leaned in to speak with him. At the waiter's back, another young man sporting a shock of outlandishly bright red hair was leaning against the wall, waiting with obvious impatience. Whether it was his lazy posture, or perhaps the way that he tugged uncomfortably at the sleeves of his suit every few moments as though unused to it, something about him gave off a veritable aura of 'out of place', surrounded as he was by society's so-called upper crust.

The portly man's face scrunched into an irritated ball as the waiter spoke, and he turned a briefly baleful eye onto the red-haired youth, before something the waiter said seemed to pleasantly surprise him. His scowl faded immediately, and he nodded briskly, plucking his glass from the table and rising. He offered a nod and a few words to the woman he'd been seated next to, before stepping away to follow the waiter down the length of the table.

"Finally," the red-haired young man grinned, pushing off the wall and sliding into the now vacant seat. "For a moment I thought porky there was gonna kick up a fuss."

Casey laughed, though he seemed a little embarrassed. "Ah, and this is my partner, Robin O'Quinn," he went on. Robin lifted a hand in a casual wave to Alysanne, flashing her a friendly smile. After a moment, though, he noticed the buzzing clockworks flitting around Noralei, and his eyes boggled slightly as he (poorly) suppressed a snort of amusement.
 
Whilst the upper crust clinked glasses and indulged in appetisers that were worth more than the average human life in the underground slave trade, Kester was slinking through the MAGNIFICA's cabins once more, but this time through the even grander and more ostentatious hallways of the upper deck. Golden trimmings furnished the walls along with beautiful paintings and ornaments. It took a lot of willpower not to shove some of them into his pack, but logically, he could only take that which he could carry in his pack. So he had to go for the trinkets, the jewels - small things with high price tags.

The lock on a cabin door gave a satisfying click as his picks moved the last tumbler into place. The locks had proven to be far less of a challenge than he'd been expecting, in the end. He supposed that the only people on the MAGNIFICA were supposed to be those who were rich enough to have no need of petty theft.

Slipping inside, Kester grinned, taking in the scene of the room before him. A dressing table covered with perfumes and cosmetics, garters and dresses spread out across the bed from when its occupant had been deciding on an outfit. A fine lady's room, no doubt. And a jackpot, for fine ladies were the ones who carried the most jewels.

Humming to himself, the youth began to rummage through the dresser and the suitcase at the end of the bed, plucking diamonds, rubies and gold from within and tucking the safely into his bag. Each one was enough of a prize for him to eat for months, but this wasn't just about eating. This was about getting enough money together to start a new life. Kester's eyes boggled slightly as he pulled forth a particularly gaudy necklace from the bag, decorated with butterflies formed of gold and tiny encrusted gemstones.

"Who wears shit like this?" he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. "Must make 'em look like a fuckin' Wintersday Tree."

He shrugged, and the necklace joined the rest of his haul. Before too long, he was stepping back out into the hallway, ready to continue his prowl.
 
Of all the people to be seated next to her, Alysanne could not have been more surprised to see Casey Hart. This was not her first time seeing the controversial, talented young inventor, but the two had never been formally introduced. She knew his face well, plastered on magazines and newspapers. He was known for his blustery charm, his way with words, and, of course - the highly controversial new energy source he had championed, a source that he alone held details on - a source that currently powered the MAGNIFICA, and caused the engine rooms of the airship to be fiercely guarded from the eyes of air competitors, energy competitors, and those in the science or investment communities.

"Well met," Alysanne shook hands firmly with her peer. "An odd seating choice. I would have thought Guggenheim would have wanted you squarely on his lap, if all the fuss is to be believed."

Alysanne and her father made quite a pair. While her father, Camden, made strides to please everyone and saw the light in those around him, Alysanne was aggressive, assertive, and saw the dark side of people. Prior gave Hart a quick once-over, but a quick flitting grin - she was testing him.

Just then, a red-haired youth joined them as well. Alysanne moved from curious, to amused. Arleth Winnov seemed interested at his proximity to Hart, but wilted at the presence of the man introduced as Robin, notably, a "nobody."

Noralei looked up, and scowled at Casey. The clockworks buzzed around her, one landing on the table with a thud louder than what its perceived size should have made.

"Who's this one?" Noralei barked at Arleth, who flinched. She pointed a shaking finger at Casey, while Alysanne smirked. "He needs a haircut."

"Oh, mummy, that's -- " Arleth bent his head in, murmuring about Hart.

As the clockwork servers brought small plates around with between-course mints, Alysanne couldn't help but laugh. Noralei Winnov knew who Casey Hart was. The Winnovs represented the age of coal and steam, building blocks of the wold. Hart represented a new, clean, disruptive way of things - the end of an era. Noralei knew.

The mints were wrapped in gold foil, and twisted into an elegant, insanely detailed model of the MAGNIFICA itself. A swirl of chocolate drizzle spiraled out from the intricate design. Despite herself, Alysanne was impressed.

Across the table, Noralei gave a shout of a laugh. Arleth moved away from his mother, occupying himself with unwrapping his mint. With a ghostly glare, Noralei reached out with a shaking finger, smashed the MAGNIFICA on her plate, and flicked it onto the floor.

"Oh that's nice," Alysanne muttered. She leaned backwards, motioning for Cali to bring her more wine.
 
Iosine Lammergeier padded through the first class halls, cutting a striking figure. She was taller than most men, her eyes were piercing, and every inch of exposed skin revealed her as a body-hacker. The MAGNIFICA crew regarded her with wariness usually held for attack dogs of uncertain loyalty. They had seen her with Astor, one of the flight's most honored, revered guests .. but were not sure if she should be treated as a guest, or as a threat ..

Io knew this, and didn't say a word. With everyone at the dinner, she took this opportunity to examine the opulent first class public areas, and then walk the rounds of some of the exclusive suites. There were suites on the MAGNIFICA that rivaled the size of North Parkwway estate homes with multiple floors, lush sky decks, and luxury materials. She was blind to them. She had another mission in mind, one that only Astor knew, and another that not even her employer could fathom ..

When Kester stepped out of one of the lesser cabins into the main hall, he nearly bowled into Iosine. Io folded her arms over her chest. They were at the end of the hall. There was nowhere else for Kester to go.

Caught with his pants down. Iosine stood with her hands on her hips. Her black and silver coat opened, revealing her biomechanical limbs, and combat gear. She didn't say a word. She simply made herself look as subtly threatening as possible, and waited to see what the excuse would be ..
 
Casey laughed, and flashed a slightly bashful grin. Unbidden, his eyes flicked over to the centre of the table, and his intended seat - now occupied by the very self-satisfied looking man who had been moved upon his arrival - with a nervous frown. "You're not wrong, Miss Prior," he answered, looking back at her and pushing the smile back onto his face. "But as it turned out there wasn't room in his lap for two, so I had to, er, improvise."

"My fault," Robin piped up. "The Guggenaut probably thought I'd throw the delicate sensibilities at that end of the table for a loop by existing in their space."

"Robin! You can't use that- Don't call him that!" Casey looked momentarily mortified, although there was unmistakable amusement in his eyes, and he didn't succeed entirely in suppressing his smirk. "Anyway, I'm sure it was just a mix-up." He paused to flash a friendly smile and wave in the direction of the Winnovs, just then noticing the attention they were paying him. "And in any case, I'm honestly a little relieved. I feel like I can probably be a little more myself out from under his ..." he hesitated, searching for the right word for a moment before settling with "... wing."

When the mints were brought out, Robin gave a whistle of appreciation, picking his up from his plate and holding it up to the light for a better look. "Wow, even the mints. Whoever their chocolate guy is should be a sculptor..." he paused, considering, "... probably already is, I guess." At the slight rattle that accompanied Noralei's disdainful gesture towards the mint on her plate, he raised an eyebrow and leaned across to stage-whisper to Casey; careful to be just loud enough that the Winnov woman probably could hear him. "Was that some high society ritual I'm not aware of, or just a tantrum?"

Casey made a valiant effort at not laughing, biting his lip and preoccupying himself with the foil of his mint. "So! Miss Prior," he spoke up, as much to try and distract from the remark as anything. "How are you finding the voyage so far?"
 
A veritable montage of expressions paraded across Kester's face as he turned around to come face to face with Iosine, from surprise, to panic, to shock, and then back to panic. "Er," he stammered, displaying a level of deceptive eloquence comparable to that of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Good evening ma'am," he managed to spit out after far too long a pause. "I... was just finishing a room inspection." He patted his uniform pathetically, and offered an attempt at a convincing smile that came across more as pleading. His one saving grace was that this woman - well, the parts of her that still were more woman than machine - didn't seem to be wearing the uniform of the MAGNIFICA's actual guards. Maybe she was just a passenger? A personal bodyguard?

A brief feeling of dread passed through him. What if she'd been hired by the person whose room he'd just been robbing? In that case, he supposed, he was probably dead meat. This did not look like a woman who took prisoners.

"... can I help you at all?" he ventured.
 
Among all of the high-class passengers, an old man bound to a wheelchair was situated at a round table. He did not care for the festivities or the food. His eyes were on the game in front of him. Cards, cash, the old classic choice of gambling. These nobles were all but too eager to lose their money in the game of chance. Every single twitch of their face, how they squirmed in their seats, and how their eyes shifted across the table. The old man was an expert at reading others. It was not through the hard toil of work that he had built his capital on, but the manipulation of people and their greed. That was not to say he wasn't a greedy man himself. He had his reasons for being here. Cheating men of their cash was only part of his goal. He wanted to know the secrets of the MAGNIFICA. The technology was revolutionary... and valuable. Companies would pay good money for the blueprints. Tabloids would clamber to know what this clean energy was, and how it was made.

"Raise," the old man said, his eyes locked on the cards as he threw a few ducats into the pot. As equally as he could read his opponent, he hid his own. He won the pot, naturally. His opponent had nothing in his hands aside for a bluff. He flipped a coin in the air before stuffing into his pouch. He tipped his tophat to the three other gentleman, "I think we're done here," These men had nothing left to take. He took out his pocket watch, clicking it open, and gave it a long look while mouthing to himself. He clicked his watch closed as a gunshot rang through the air.

A servant had just shot a troupe member, his body almost immediately collapsing due to the fatal chest wound. He turned towards the crowd pistol aimed at his next victim when he himself was shot in the shoulder. He staggered back, as loud stomping followed afterwards as Tonic bull rushed the man, swinging its weapon at his legs, and sweeping him off the floor. The servant fell over with a resounding thump as Tonic ripped the weapon out of his hand. The servant probably had a broken leg, along with a nasty bullet wound, but he was still alive. He had a piece of paper clutched within his other hand with an iron grip. Tonic forced the piece of paper out of his hand, giving it a good look before anyone else made their way towards the scene, if anyone did.

The schematics of the MAGNIFICA are to be delivered to Vex Skies upon arrival. There will be consequences if you fail to deliver.
 
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