Texas Sized Trouble

Well I have to admit some of the things Edward is capible of isn't very steampunk, but I feel it appropriate given the setting. More shall be explained as we fall further down the rabbit hole.



Julian seemed to be an esception to the bored and unhappy amongst Jack's crew. Then again Galviston, or more properly New Galviston, had several local broadcasting stations and between personal study and on-the-job experiance he had the nessicary skills, licensing, and recommendations to get a job he enjoyed. True it was either working with sometimes broken equipment that ran several thousand watts of power, or climbing up an antenna tower because some cabling came loose or an adjustment was needed, but it was work he liked. To each their own.

So as of this current moment where was he? Not with the amplifiers, nor was he crouched over a reciever to test signal strength and quality while another transmitted. He wasn't even suspended hundreds of feet in the air attending to a fidgety antenna. Julian wasbeing fitted for a suit, more specifically a suit for his wedding.

"I still say this is a bad idea Sir." The tailor he had gone to wasn't someone he was familiar with or had spoken to much, but gossip travels at speeds and ways physics has yet to rightly explain so he knew most of the story from a friend of a friend who heard something at a bar.

Julian was scarcely in a position to respond, what with being forced to hold still while dozensof needles were poking through different pieces of a suit he'd bought to be adjusted t osize. "I mean," The youth who was doing the penwork continued as he traced and marked, "Sure the President said its kosher now and the senet's backing him, but marrying one of those?" Incredulous tone.

To his credit Julian kept quiet through the young apprintice's prattling over his personal life. Oh sure he was taking a risk. Marrage itself was a risk even without the problems caused by 'mixed' unions. Still, it was their lives, they would do as they damned well please.





At the same time his would-be bride was almost litterally neck deep in fish. The transfer net she had been guiding ripped and she was, due to being beneath it, lucky that she hadn't been killed in the process. That she wasn't either spoke of her good fortune, her inborn resiliance by being a 'blue skin', or possibly the hardhat she wore was actually doing it's job.

Her job was something the shift supervisor was screaming at her about not doing an hour after the mess had gotten cleaned up. In spite of every impulse in her screaming to lift the little fat man up by his throat and see how many times he could bounce when thrown into the Gulf she stood there and listened to his ranting over 'idiocy born into you degenerate sub-humans' and 'wishing you lot weren't so cheap else I'd have every last one of you shot.' amongst many many other choice phrases that shall not be repeted here.

Annoyed was she to be in the hands of one of the most concervitive people in an otherwise tolerant and open port city. Still, they needed money between now and whenever their ship set sail again for the little nessecities of life. Plus the wedding wouldn't pay for itself and they'd both wanted something, if not lavish and extravagint, with more ceramony than a simple signing in front of a judge.





By the time she had been allowed to leave she regretted very much that small minded people such as her boss couldn't legally be beaten sensless. When she got to their apartments she was exausted both from her boss and the work itself. She didn't notice the soft music, candles, or perfumed air. The already drawn hot bath was a welcome sight as was a hot meal, but the rest she was too tired for.

While she slept Julian slipped out to do a little nighttime prowling. He was far from unfaithful, and wasn't wont to drink. So what was his point in being out past dark in a part of town that catred to migrants, immigrants, and other unsightly folk? He asked himself that as he kept a wary eye on a group of men that had been shadowing him for the past three blocks.

Finally he had enough of it and stepped into an allyway. With a slight twist of the topper he pulled a slender blade loose, and alongwith the sheath in his other hand he felt he had a halfway decent chance of wlaking away, either by showing he was going to be more trouble than he was worth, or by sticking the pointy end into one of his would-be attackers. Granted all that would go to ruin if one of them brought a gun into things, but he had to work with what he had.

When the group saw him leaning against an apartment's fire escape, sword in one hand, good length of wood held in the other they shook thier collective heads before walking on. Julian smiled as he resheathed his weapon. It was only then he had realized his heart was racing and his hands trembled. What if it hadn't worked? He shook the thought away before continuing on to his destination.





He used the head of his walking stick to knock on a door that looked like it had seen better days. "Edward!" Raised voice, but not quite shouting. "We have to talk." The door opened in mid swing and Edward caught the head with one of his large hands.

With a frown he let go before motioning Julian to come in. With that done the door slammed and bolted shut behind them. "What's with waking me at this hour?" He checked a clock that hung on the wall across from the entryway. "Show some mercy, it's midnight."

"I'm sorry but that signal you told me to keep an ear out for, slight worbling the teletypes can't make sense of. It's not just in your head."

"....bloody hell."
Post a Comment