Murder In The Skies Of Britain

One

The purr of the engine soothed Dominic into a false sense of calm. He was docked on the western skyland, a cacophony of noise assailed him from outside. It wasn't his fault; he hadn't known the girl was Big Franky's daughter, heck he didn't even know her name. One night of drunken fun and now half the village was after him with the metaphorical torch and pitchfork.

He let out a loud sigh of relief as The Faithful Lady left the ground . She was not as luxurious as the newer models, but to him, Faithful was every bit as fine as her majesty's palace. He patted the worn brass dashboard and affectionately thanked her, "good ol' girl."

He was happy to get as far away from the skyland and Big Franky and his daughter as he could. Flying the open sky had always had a somewhat calming affect on him. The sound of his steamship relaxed him, made it easier to think.

He made it about ten miles before he realized that his ship was making a peculiar noise; a loud clanking noise resonated from the engine room. "hmm, that does not sound good," he slowed Faithful to almost a complete stop, and then checked the gauges and dials. Everything seemed to be in order. He decided to go down to the engine room, and look around, make sure nothing was mucked up in there.

As he entered the smoggy room he was hit by an ungodly smell. Like three weeks worth of old musty clothes and dead animals had crawled up in his engine and caught fire.

"Oh god," he caughed and sluttered.

He ran over to the engine, if something got caught in there it would not be good for his ship.

He threw the cover open and was once again hit by the smell. A sudden flame shot up, barely missing Dominics face.

He quickly turned the valves surrounding the engine, extinguishing the fire. He grabbed a nearby lantern and pulled his goggles down over his eyes.

The inside of the engine was coated in soot and rust, but this was not the cause of the smell. Sitting in the middle of the furnace, atop a pile of smoldering coals, was a canvas sack. Dominic grabed a pair of metal tongs and pulled the bag out of the still hot engine furnace. He used the tongs and his gloved hand to open the canvas bag. When a glint caught his eye, he pulled the bag closer...

He droped the bag with a yelp, and backed against a shelf, causing bottles and tools to clatter. The glint had been from a golden insignia ring, but this was not what had alarmed Dominic; the ring was atached to the swolen pinky finger of a severed hand.

The hand was badly decayed and singed slightly. It was a nasty colour, like that of a bruised peach, and the fingers were swolen and crooked. A nasty odor rose from the monstrous thing. It was comparable to a butchers market after a long day in the heat.

Dominic ran up the stairs, getting as far away from the hand as he could. When he reached what served as his sleeping courters and dining room, he vomited.

After he calmed down a little bit he debated what to do. The closest stop was the northern docks of Greater New England. He would have to stop soon for supplies and to let the ship reheat, but he couldn't go to the police, he hadn't exactly made a good impression with the 'blue coats' in the past. No, he would have to put the hand somewhere until he figured out what to do. He briefly thought of going to his brother, but dismissed the idea immediately; his brother, highest ranked Blue Coat officer in Greater New England, would just as soon arrest him.

He reluctantly made his way back to the engine room. The hand was still where he left it as he covered his nose and mouth and walked into the horrid room. He grabed the bag with the tongs he had droped the first time around, making sure to keep the awful item from falling out. He brought it over to a large metal container; it held the cooling agent for Faithful's engine, the chemical that stopped her from overheating. He opened the front panel of the iced over cylinder and chunked the hand inside, slamming the door shut behind it. He couldn't stand being so near the thing, so he once again ran upstairs. This time he found himself in the bridge. Faithful Lady was still idling, waiting for Dominic to take over.

When he neared the docks, he slowed again. He couldn't risk boarding any registered dock; the place was crawling with 'blue coats.' He lowered his ship so that as he neared the docks, he was under them, rather then beside them. He pulled the ship up as far under the docks as possible, and then anchored Faithful to the bottom. He left her running, so that she would reheat, and so that if the need arose, he could make a quick departure. He grabbed a burlap sack, and stuffed it through his belt, and prepared to leave his ship.

He crawled up through the exit hatch in Faithful's control room, and crouched on her hull. He absolutely dreaded this part; he grabed ahold of the chain anchoring Faithful to the dock, and then swung himself up so that he was dangling in open air, hanging from the hook that was latched onto the dock. He silently prayed, and then let go with one hand. Docks always had ladders leading underneath so that maintenance workers could get down, Dominic just had to find it. He felt around the edge of the port, until he found a latch; he pulled it and a rope ladder droped down. He thanked whatever gods were on his side and climbed up.

The ladder brought him up in an empty alleyway, adding to his stream of newfound luck. He pulled his scarf up over his mouth; it was beneficial not to bring his identity to light.

He exited the alley and made his way through the crowded streets, eventually he found what he was looking for: an open marketplace. Luckily it was crowded, 'borrowing' from a market that had few customers was difficult.

Dominic discreetly walked past the vendors, grabbing what he needed when the vendors were busy with customers.

Dominic had quite the collection of supplies in his bag, when he quite literally ran into the most beautiful girl in the world.

He had been walking along, when suddenly he was colliding into her. She was astonishing. Her skin was like the delicate ceramic dolls he had seen in the windows of uperclass stores, and her hair like copper and honey.

Both were sent tumbling backwards onto their backsides. Dominic slightly less elegantly.

"Ehm, im sorry, miss...?" Dominic started.

"Oh, I musn't have been watching where I was going, my name is Evelynne St.James" She extended her hand, still sitting on the ground.

"Dominic Gruff Mclual" Dominic took her hand in his. He smiled his most charming, crooked grin at her.

She looked around, nervously, like she was afraid of something. "Well, Mr. Mclual, it really was good to meet you, but I really must be on my way." She stood, curtsied, and then she was gone, running through the crowd.

Dominic stood, astonished at the young lady's behavior.

He shrugged, and continued on his way. His bag had become considerably more heavy as he had "shopped" and he was ready to go back to the Faithful Lady.