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In memory of Flyin' Black Jackson
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275466 No. 275466 ID: da3700

You stare out the window of the plane, as it drifts slowly through the sky. Today is your NINETEENTH BIRTHDAY, and you are finally going to realize your dream of TRAVELING ABROAD, which means of course going to BRITAIN, the owner of every single continent, country, state, city, and person. The popular QUEEN ANNE XIII, who never seems to even age, rules as the current QUEEN, and she's been ruling far longer than you've been alive. You think she's been kept alive through the various STEAM MACHINES the famous HUMANIST, PROFESSOR THIRDSON, has created.

That is actually who you've come to visit in BRITAIN. You've heard that he's become somewhat of a RECLUSE lately, but that hasn't stopped your want of a meeting with him. You somewhat dream of becoming a FAMOUS INVENTOR just like him, and you hope to at least show him the sketches you've done. You look forwards for a moment, taking in the machinery of the STEAM PLANE you are currently riding in.

You've never ridden one before, so you spent most of the beginning of your trip watching all the gears and and pulleys and such. You glance over the passengers. They're all reading newspapers silently, allowing you to hear the constant, soothing hiss of the STEAM. You turn back, and see a green flash in the distant sky. It must be FAIRIES cleaning the ATMOSPHERE, something they tend to do, despite it costing their lives.

You often wonder why MAGIC CREATURES are kept seperate from society, when the QUEEN fully accepts them, but you suppose they just don't like humans. On the other hand, that also doesn't make sense for MAGIC HUMANS, who you always see living in the slums. You've heard that MAGIC USERS are generally born from poor families, but you aren't quite sure.

A ding echoes through the plane, and the pilot starts talking. "Attention, we will be landing in Britain in a few moments. After that, you will be allowed to stand up and gather your luggage. Thank you for flying, and have a nice day." It goes silent again, and the sound of steam fills your ears again. You glance out the window again, and see the towering buildings of Britain, and more importantly, the floating castle known as the FLOATING PARLIAMENT, but it is, if you recall, the third one, the other two having been destroyed in the various wars of your planet's past.

A few minutes later, the Steam Plane lands, and you stand up, albeit a bit shakily. You grab your luggage from the overhead compartments, and exit along with the other passengers. You look up, the airport looming over head. You enter the building, and see multitudes of other people. You sigh, and start trying to make your way through the throng of people, and hope you don't collide with someone.

You do.

You hit the ground, you and your luggage making a thump. You look up at the man in front of you. He has a hat on, one of the kinds detectives wear, and a large scarf that, for the most part, obscures his face. He wears a dark brown trench coat, and black boots, two briefcases in hand.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," You gulp. "I wasn't paying much attention..."

You think he narrows his eyes. It's hard to tell. "What's your name, kid?"

"What?"

"Your name."

You blink. What were you going to tell this guy?
>>
No. 275476 ID: 259738

Theodore Baldwin.
>>
No. 275483 ID: 28e94e

First name: Bob
Last name: ...Bob?
>>
No. 275722 ID: 252e1b

Chelsea T. Baldwin
>>
No. 275732 ID: 3b3043

Kate, short for Bob
>>
No. 275734 ID: 7150d8

>>275466
Bob.
>>
No. 275739 ID: da3700

"Theodore," you manage to say after a moment. "Theodore B. Baldwin." You pull yourself up, and grab for your luggage. Unfortunate for you, the case opens up, spilling your items everywhere, including your drawings. Cursing to yourself, you bend down and start collecting the papers, and you can't help but notice the man still standing there.

He bends down slowly, and picks up on of your drawings, as you continue to stuff things inside of your suitcase. After a moment, he speaks. "Where're you from, kid?" You look up, and see his eyes flicker across the page. You think his eyes are doing that. It's hard to tell.

"America, sir."

America is only now a budding nation, an experiment by Britain that is still prospering. He looks up from the paper. You try to read his expression, from only his eyes, but it's pretty hard. You give up on trying to do that. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I wanted to meet a certain person," you respond back. The paper the man is holding is the last one you need. "I don't know where they are, exactly, so it might be a bad idea, but I wanted to try." The man nods, and hands you the paper back. You quickly stuff it back into your suitcase, and shut it with a snap.

"Who did you want to meet, exactly," he asks. "I may be able to help." You look up at him again.

"George Thirdson, the famous professor," you say, blinking. "He's, uh, kind of my hero." The man nods, and you think you hear a soft chuckle. The scarf must be kind of thick.

"Yeah, I can help you find him, kid," the man says after a moment. "I happen to be a good friend of his." You smile. This is almost to good to be true!

"If it isn't too much trouble, of course! Thank you, sir!" The man flicks his hands to the front of the airport, and starts off. You quickly follow him, swerving through the people, and managing to not hit anybody this time.

Outside, the man steps into a car, and you get inside the back. "So, where does the professor live?"

"Not too far from here," the man looks at you in the rearview mirror. "Hey, you don't mind us taking a detour to the bar, do you?"

What do you say?
>>
No. 275815 ID: 021ee1

Say "I don't mind, in fact, I'd love a tall glass of beer right now."
>>
No. 275916 ID: 815cd1

>>275739
Cans it be roofie and kidnapping tiem naos?

But, hey. You're already in the guy's car, so if this is a kidnapping in progress, might as well get thoroughly liquored up first.
>>
No. 279066 ID: da3700

"I don't really mind," you respond, shifting in your seat. "As long as I get where I'm going." The man nods, and starts the steam car. The car lurches forward, and rolls down the street. These things make you sick, but you can withstand it, at least, you think you can. As you're driving, you see the sky flash green again, but this time from much closer. You think it might've been coming from the castle.

"Does the castle use fairies for the atmosphere?" The man laughs.

"Kid, let me tell you something, the Queen? She's not what you think she is," you look up at the man, confused. "You can ask your proessor friend about that." The conversation ends at that point. The awkward silence drifts along for the rest of the ride. You feel the car bounce everytime there's an uneven bump in the road, and your stomach lurches. You're definitely not doing well. You hope the ride ends. You lean against the car's door.

More bumping. You let out a soft groan. You hope the ride ends soon.
...
Unfortunately, it doesn't end soon enough. By the time the car stops in front of the bar, and stumble out, green faced. The man points to the alley, and you quickly stumble in the direction, and kneel behind a trash can. After you're done, you walk slowly back to the man, who chuckles, before stepping into the bar.

After a moments hesitation, you follow, and are immediately assaulted by the smell of strong liquor and sweat. Some form of music drafts through the bar's main room, and you can see in the corner of the room three ELVES, dressed in ragged, stitched together clothing, dark green in color. Their hair colors are exotic, different shades of purple and blue. They hold odd instruments in their hands, and play them, and you realize they are the source of the music. The bar's walls are made of dark brown wood, and even then, you can still see stains you can probably live without knowing the origin of.

Different patrons are walking through the bar, carrying mugs of different kinds of beer. You can see a DWARF and a bald man, wearing a dirty shirt, arm wrestling at a table far away. The bald man's arm is made of a gold color metal, and you can see multiple gears rotating, but despite this, the dwarf seems to be holding his own. The man quickly moves to a rough stool in front of the main bar, where the bartender, stands, cleaning a glass. He has a few strands of black hair over his head, but is otherwise bald. He wears a black vest with a red bowtie, and a white button up shirt underneath. His left eye is made of a cold, gray metal, with a bright blue orb acting as the main part. You notice a thin strand of steam floating from behind the bartender's head.

You let out a breath. What do you do first?
>>
No. 279080 ID: 021ee1

Tip the Elves so they well play a tune for you and challenge the Dwarf at arm wrestling, or just get drunk.
>>
No. 279474 ID: 815cd1

>>279066
Go sit next to your strange new man acquaintance and order a drink. Something preferably in the mid-quality area. Don't wanna burn all that money on the premium stuff, yet you don't wanna be drinking any piss water.

And keep your eyes on your drink as much as possible. This'll make it hard for anyone (other than the bartender) to slip anything into it.
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