One Lone Key: A Steampunk Tale

[Faux_Pas]

(closed for Freekles & myself)


Clara Vladimir Clavy
former captain of the Wounded Eagle (still is... Technically...)
26 yrs old
Carries a Particle Disruptor Gun, dubbed the Persuader by prior owner, Clara referencing it as "Percy"



That ship was her baby.
Her absolutely favorite thing on this entire planet. The Wounded Eagle.
Far more than wounded now.

It had sunk.
Quite the feat for an airship. But, yes, there it had gone; sinking into the murk of the lake, Clara and her navigator barely managing to get out before it crashed down into the water.

A twitch came to the corner of the still-trying-to-hold-her-title Captain's face as she recalled the last she had seen of it, the air bubble that flooped up from the completely submerged ship, its last attempt for a cry for help.

It was Larney's fault. The damn fool.
What kind of navigator couldn't see a damn mountain?!
The gaping hole in her hull, the loss of compression, the damage to the controls... She should have thrown Larney at that damn mountain.

Drowning her sorrows now in various drinks of even more varying strengths, she watched the stumbling laughing man as he danced about the tavern floor, causing her to seethe even further. He'd just destroyed the one thing she adored.... and it made no difference to him.

She needed money.
She needed a new ship.
She needed a new damn navigator.

Slipping up from the table, deciding to merely abandon the man behind, she slapped a handful of money down upon the table to cover her own drinks, fully set upon leaving the area as quickly as possible.

A voice gave a detour on that. She barely noticed it, at first. But when she did... "Clara. Clara Clavy. Lady of the Wounded Eagle. Brought to walk along the soil?"

"A snake bit my wings," She replied sourly, stumbling herself to find the deep voice talking. "Still working on those landlegs... Care to tell me why you're callin' a Pirates name so carelessly?"

"Now, now. You're more than just a simple Skyrat. I need the assistance of someone who knows the best ways to find things."

"Oh, s'that so?" Clara's smirk grew even more, tumbling into the chair closer to explore this curious conversation. "And just what might be in that for me?"

"I can put you back where you belong... I only need a few... favors."

"Do go on, friend."
--------------

Not a word of it was uttered to Larney. He didn't need to know, as he would most likely screw it all up on her. His track list so far hadn't been gaining him any points. Leaving him behind once again, this time at the inn's room taken up for "Lady Lenore", she made her way out into the city. So much to explore. Only one set destination.

She wasn't one for robbery, really. She preferred to gain things from kindly asking. Ok, yes, Percy made a slight appearance- But he was only living up to his name. Certainly not to hurt anyone too terribly. No one missed a finger or two. It wasn't like she took a whole damn hand or arm. Well...Anymore. Percy was hard to learn. And people got all flaily.

She was looking for... A key.
A simple enough thing. Just a key.
The fact it was hidden away in vaults and cement, buried away- now that was the confusing thing. Why would anyone lock away a key? Wasn't it usually the thing the key was needed FOR?

No matter to her.
Clara got that key, Clara got a ship.
Seemed an easy enough trade.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Robert Bartholomieu Braddock
Seemingly innocuous apothecary, secretly skilled alchemist.
28 years old
Often carrying various concoctions and trinkets that are not what they seem.

It had been a very long and trying week in the store. Supplies were running low, and those few things he could make himself were not often enough to help the people who needed them. It wouldn't be long before he would have to close his doors for good. Back-rent stacked up higher than he stood, and that only made his situation worse.

A tall man, easily a head taller than he was, strode into the store, his facial features obscured by a scarf and a low-brimmed cap. It was the middle of summer, but still the man was bundled up as though the chill winds were blowing in earnest.

"Good day, Mister Braddock."

"Please, just call me Bart."

"Perhaps I should call you Robbin Banks?"

Bart's eyes narrowed at the stranger. No one but the police knew that pseudonym. It had started as a joke, but when he had been made to resort to stealing money from the town's only bank to pay for his supplies, it had stuck. He'd been nearly caught several times, but Lady Luck had been on his side. The sheriffs and constables alike only saw the dark-haired man with the bandana and his duster full of tricks.

"Perhaps you should tell me why you're here, then, before a customer should happen to come by..."

"Always straight to the point. That's what I need you for. You see, what I want is in a place you're familiar with..."

---------------

And so, Bart had donned his guise, preparing a few vials with various tinctures and grabbing a few of his tools before venturing out after the sun had set.

A key, in a vault, at the basement floor of the bank. A place he'd never bothered investigating. But for the sum of money that the stranger had offered, he would risk it. He just hoped that Lady Luck was still smiling on him...

 

[Faux_Pas]

There was a certain amount of elegance needed to break into something with such a high amount of blockade in the way. A finesse to it. A... delicate act, really.

Clara despised it all. If there was one thing she preferred, it was to be loud. Big. If you're going to do something, make sure they know it's been done. What's the point of doing anything if no one knows who did it? It seemed such a waste! There was a pride to pulling off a theft, a swelling inside when someone would recall it- It was her, that damned Captain Clavy!

Oh, that was pure joy, there. To hear her name shouted in fury from the lips of those she'd taken from.

Her fingers perused the wall outside the bank, idly feeling the stone and mortar as she hummed to herself, merely giving a smile and nod to those who passed. Nothing to see here. Just feeling up the wall. That's right, the odd looks and disgusted glances at the loon. Keep going with that. Things would change come night.

And so it did.

The garb of locale was traded off for her standard, her more comfortable findings of theft and fleet footing. Her bag, filled with her various favorite tools for such work, hefted over her shoulder as she hummed away once more, this time a meandering dance taken down the main road in the dusk of the moon. Shouldn't be any eyes to pry now. Too late at night. Those slumbering away, oblivious to the world around them. They always slept through the greatest times...

She paused, noticing another figure in the dark, the other stretch of buildings along the opposing end of the street. A brow quirked at that, the pirate ducking back slightly behind the sweets shop to peer out curiously. Oh, hell. Did they have constables on patrol this late as well?

Well... She hadn't actually done anything wrong. Yet.
Not quite.
Just out for a jaunt.

Returning to her hum, she stepped back out from behind the building, glancing around. No sign of- whoever that was. Safe to move on. Back for the bank. Already reaching into her bag, she pulled out the small explosive, checking it over as she came to stop before the wall she had deemed best for it earlier in the day. Trying to align it with that certainly-perfect spot once more, she continued to hum away, though the sound was more wandering in tone, now.

Right. There.
Right on the little mark of lipstick rubbed off earlier.
Licking her thumb, she pushed it against the wall, smirking to herself as she took a step back. "Baboom," She whispered with a grin, taking a few more steps back still.

Little bumblebee could make a pretty darn good sting. Best to stay out of its way. The water activation would only take another minute or so to set off the explosion, leaving her plenty of time to keep her distance.

Of course, that figure she had seen... That was going to bother her. Another leery glance was given about, a soft huff leaving her lips.

Damn.
No one to see.
At least the hole would be a reminder...
...Why hadn't it gone off yet?!

 

[fr33ks33k]

Not a single patrol had gone by. Made things easier for Bart. Though, there was someone else out and about. Strange at this time of night, but then again the working girls did have to make their way to their houses at some point. The moon had hit its high point in the sky, casting long shadows over the building and the spaces between. Bart moved through the shadows like they were a part of him, slinking down the alleys and side-stepping the various debris left lingering by the homeless and destitute.

He paid no mind to the figure at the opposite end of the street, though something did keep tingling at the base of his skull. There would be something troublesome about that person's presence, eventually.

The side door to the bank was heavily fortified. It was the only access point for money to be taken and delivered. Nothing that he couldn't handle. Reaching into his duster he removed two slender metal picks, one with a curved end and the other with a flat, shovel-like tip. The main keyhole was almost large enough to fit two fingers into and the tumblers were just as large. Sliding the picks into the hole, Bart turned and twisted them until he heard the subtle clicking of them falling into place.

The next part would be a bit more...involved. The picks were put away and two short vials, one with blue liquid, the other with a yellow powder, took their place. The secondary lock was actually a latch that fastened to the frame of the door itself. The only way to bypass it would be to melt through that portion of the door frame. Once the yellow powder was poured onto the area, the blue liquid dripped from the vial onto it, causing a slow sizzling accompanied by a green burbling substance. The door swung open and Bart stepped inside. No sooner than he'd made it to the downstairs door, he heard a loud BANG!

"What in the Sam Hell was that?!"

The pharmacist/alchemist/bank robber crouched down behind the teller's counter, waiting to see what had caused all the ruckus.

 

[Faux_Pas]

Clara coughed and cursed softly, wiping at her eyes as she peered at the hole left behind. Damn it. The fuse had more life to it than she thought. Debris still tumbled from the opening she had made in such delicate ways, the airpirate gingerly lifting her skirt slightly and working through the entry. A tight squeeze, a bit of contortioning needed to make it through, nearly losing the goggles resting atop her head in the process.

Wait.
Goggles.

"Damn it!," She hissed softly, her fingers coming to rest on the bridge of her nose. She had gotten so excited on checking that she hadn't even bothered to-

Another pause, the hand slowly starting to lower as she peered around. Curious smell in here. Faint, but not entirely what she'd have expected after a Bumblebee. She knew that scent well. This had an extra... twang to it.

She didn't trust that.
Slowly, her free hand slid to rest against her hip, fingers dancing against her Persuader as she glided her foot across the floor with a leery glance around.

"Hm."

Still resting fingers against her belt, Clara headed for the stairway, trying to recall all the details of the bank vault and the prime location she was intended to find. A box with 309. Or was it 903? 039? She paused, then scowled, growling lightly to herself. "I'll take every damn one of 'em, just to be safe."

That odd feeling wasn't leaving, however. The feeling of her hair on the back of her neck, twingling and shivering, aware of something she wasn't. Something that made her heart pick up a bit more. Monsters and ghoulies. A bit too old for that, wasn't she?

Well, she was certain something was watching her. Make sure they enjoy the show, who or whatever it was.
She placed her other hand on the doorknob, trying to simply open it- finding it refusing to cooperate. Another jiggle, and a hard huff. "Fine then. Baboom it is." Reaching for her bag, she took out another small device, this one with a simple smiley face tacked to it and a bar of red. Studying the door, she hunted for the best spot to hook it onto, humming away as she worked.

Another shiver.
"Hell....," She whispered, shaking her head. "Startin' to think Larney's out there just dancin' away on my grave..."

 

[fr33ks33k]

When the smoke and rubble cleared, Bart could see a woman standing in the main area of the lobby. She was beautiful, even with soot smeared on her cheeks and rubbing at her eyes like she'd had pepper blown in them. She glanced around the bank as though she knew someone was there, but didn't spot him.

He was just about to breath a sigh of relief when he saw her heading to the downstairs door, fastening some sort of device to it. If it was anything like what she'd used to get into the building, he was not going to be this close to it when it went off. He crept away, keeping well down and out of her peripheral vision as he rounded the teller's counter. Now, from behind her, he could watch and see what she was up to. Surely she wasn't after the key at the bottom of the vault...the mysterious man who'd offered him the task hadn't mentioned another person, but that didn't mean anything.
As she fiddled with the door some more, he saw the pistol at her hip. At least, he hoped it was a pistol. It looked a little big to be a six-shooter.


"Who the Hell is Larney?" he muttered to himself, a bit too loudly. He saw her jump a little.

"Shit..." he cleared his throat.

"Hello there."

Bart reached into one of the many hidden pockets on the inside lining of his duster, pulling out a small metal disc with a string adhered to it with a strange tacky substance. He tucked it into his palm as he waited for her to turn around. If things went South, that'd be his ace in the hole.

 

[Faux_Pas]

A whispered voice.
Someone needed to reteach them how to whisper. Not very good at it.

Clara jumped a bit, then turned back around quickly, Percy from her hip and leveling to point in the direction of the voice as she scowled at the now standing man. Eyeing him over, she ran her tongue over her upper teeth, a tiny scoff coming to her lips as she shrugged. "Hello to yourself. Not exactly the greatest place to be taking a nap, there. Don't you know people love to rob banks?"

She hadn't stopped looking him over yet.
He was hiding something. Same way she was trying to.
He wasn't here to rest. He was here with an intention and had means to get whatever it was, just like her. Now what was it that this fellow could be after?

Perhaps she could use this to her advantage.

A brow raised a bit, her smile growing. "Ohh. I think I see how it is. I intruded into your own withdraw, didn't I? Well now, I do think there's enough here for the both of us. I'm only after one thing, really. Well, two. Three." She frowned again, rubbing Percy against her forehead as she tried to think. "My memory's not exactly as grand as it used to be, and- Oh, to hell with this, I want to blow something else up."

Turning back to her previous task, she pushed another glob of the thick dough against the door, glancing back at the fellow once more. "...Unless, of course, you have a different plan?"

No reason in wasting another Bumblebee if he had a different method.
That, and it was always safest to see what your possible competition may have hiding up his sleeve.

"Not going to shoot ya, relax," She purred, waving Percy about once again before slipping it into her holster. "Too loud, anyways. And it takes forever for it to build up again. By the time I dealt with you, I'd have the whole town in here, and... That's just not going to be worth it."

She smiled again, gesturing to the door.
"Now. Show me what you can do, friend."

Let me make sure I don't have to kill you.

 

[fr33ks33k]

The way she waved her...was it a gun? Some sort of pistol, anyway...unnerved him. Thankfully she put it back into its holster, turning back to the door and sticking some more of what he could only guess was explosive material against the door. Probably the same stuff she'd used on the outer wall. That was too dangerous...if those sounds startled even one of the sheriff's goons...

He tucked the disc back into the hidden pocket, reaching for the vials of chemicals he'd used for his entry. No sense in letting her foul up his endeavor. If she got an itchy trigger finger, he'd deal with her.

As he sidled up beside her, Bart couldn't help but notice that under the soot stains on her cheeks, she was quite the attractive woman. He smiled, mostly to himself, as he removed the explosive tack from the door, handing it back to her.

"No need for such volatile measures. A simple solution to a simple obstacle."

He repeated the process, one vial then the other, watching as the chemicals ate through the door's lock, the hinges creaking a bit as it swung open to reveal the stairs down to the vault. He looked back at his unexpected partner in crime and laughed then at the ridiculous circumstances.

"So, how many things is it you're after again? I'm only here for one thing."

I sure hope one of the things you're after isn't what I'm after. I'd hate for this to come to violence...he thought.

"Ladies first..."

He pushed the door open all the way and gestured for her to go first. If there were any other security measures, better for her to trip them first.

 

[Faux_Pas]

"Who're you calling simple?" Clara's jaw jutted out slightly with that, glancing at him once more. A brow raised curiously as his vials let its contents dissolve away the lock's mechanics. "Hm. I suppose that is less noisy than my way. Though I do prefer things to be loud, hard, and big." She smirked at the man beside her, a quick wink given. Hey, there was still that question on if he was worth keeping around or simply giving a parting gift once all this was said and done.

His question received a mere shrug at first, Clara's hands raising up as she smiled. "Oh, nothing special. A little of this, a little of that. Mainly the one, but- hey, a gal has to pickup a trinket or two, y'know? Something to remember the journey. Perhaps even the... company." She slid up beside him as he pushed the door open, taking a moment at the doorframe to push herself against him a bit more, her breasts against his chest and smirking as she looked him straight in the eyes. "Don't you even think about pushing me down those steps, fella. I'll drag you right down with me. I said I wasn't up to speed on memory. Not smarts."


Damn. Dark down there.
"You don't happen to have a glowy vial in that pocket of yours, do ya?," She asked hesitantly, peering down into the darkened stairway, considering her own options on the matter. "Well, I do have my own way to make one, but you weren't to keen on it before. Ah- wait..." Reaching into her own pocket, she tugged out a small rock, smashing it against the wall beside her. The stone instantly sparked, igniting brightly before she tossed it down the stairs. "Shouldn't burn out. Shouldn't burn up anything, either. Shouldn't. Not exactly the same as wouldn't, so we best be getting what we need to get."

Another item taken from her pocket- a simple scrap of paper, a number scrawled upon it. "One Forty Three," She mumbled softly, glancing around. "Need the vaults. Need box 143. Have fun with your hunt, there, fella. I'm off for my main stop."

 

[fr33ks33k]

Yet another noisy tool, though sufficient light was now shining throughout the stairway. Bart followed her down the stairs, admiring her ample bottom the whole way. No harm in having a look, after all she would likely never see him again.

Then she read the vault box number she was after. One Forty-Three. It seemed Lady Luck had run out of favor for him. They were apparently after the same box. The only consolation he had was knowing exactly where the box would be. If the vaults were laid out like the other floors were, that is.

"Good luck to you too." Bart mumbled as he went in the opposite direction of the mystery thief. Once out of sight, he quickened his pace, turning left and then right twice. The boxes were labeled in fancy script numbers, each painted red on the black steel. One Thirty-Seven...there.

Bart came upon the box and reached into another hidden pocket on his duster. He had to kneel down to get the lockpicks into the cylinder, working the tumblers as quickly as he dared. He had to get the key and be gone before that bumbling woman came along to try and detonate the box. She'd likely end up melting the key before she got to it. And without the key, he'd get no payoff.

The last tumbler went up with a loud -CLICK-

Just as he was about to swing the door open, he stopped. Someone was watching him.

 

[Faux_Pas]

"Well aren't you just a busy bee." Clara watched as he muttered out his farewell and bolted off, content with meandering herself. Far too many pretty things to admire down here than to just rush in and out. "That's thr problem with you boys...," She sighed softly, peering into a few of the boxes left out on the tables, the doors left unattended. "...Always rushing everything. Where's the satisfaction in that?"

Oh. Pretty.

A number of jeweled necklaces in this box here. After losing her ship, Clara had also lost a number of her pretty things- so merely attempting to regain a few of a girl's best friends was certainly a neccessity. After all, she had fired her best friend. Well... the man she paid to be her best friend. Well... The guy she was supposed to have paid to be her best friend.

The more she thought on it, the more she was starting to understand exactly why Larney may have sabotaged the ship...
But he was still a damned bastard, in any regard.

Leaning closer to one of the walls lined with locked little doors as she fumbled to open one of the pearl-covered hair clips she had found, she peered at one of the little plaques, spotting the dust covered numbers. 47.

Numbers.
"AY RIGHT!"
A sudden realization, and the clip was dropped to the ground. She was supposed to be doing something else. Numbers going up. Up up up- Now letters. Hell. Back up, try again. That door. More numbers. Numbers with letters. Back up, try again. Bigger numbers.

And noises.
And him.

She stood in the doorway of the new hall, staring at him as the little door sounded its reward.

"I never did ask, love."
Her voice was firm, her hand slowly reaching down to take up Percy once again, drawing the gun free of her hip and aiming for the back of the man's skull. "What exactly is it you were after, hm?" She licked her lips, eyeing the numbers beside her. "Judging by what we've got here, thinkin' the odds are just a bit too heavy on this being a random coinky-dink. I do apologize, as I'm sure you're an absolutely wonderful fella and all that sappy blah-blah... But I'll be needin' that key just as much as I'm sure you'll be needin' your head. No hard feelin's, sweetie. It's all business and such." She took another step forward, now letting Percy have a rather personal moment into the man's hair as she reached in front of him, tapping the door and causing it to pop open.

"Such a shame too. You're rather cute." She smirked, looking him over before leaning in closer, kissing against the corner of his lips. "The games I could play with a fella like you...," She whispered softly, another hard sigh leaving her as she shrugged. "But I suppose we let this be a batch of water under the wheel. Or however that goes." Reaching into the box, she continued to smile- only for it to drop away. "Wait..."

Nothing.
The box was empty.
"You took it already?!"

 

[fr33ks33k]

Bart barely managed to hide his surprise. The man who'd sent him on this job had a lot of explaining to do if that key wasn't in the box. But he couldn't let her know that. The gun to his head made him pause for a moment. Definitely a dangerous one. But he had his own tricks up his sleeves, some of them quite literally. He cleared his throat and made his way to his feet very slowly. The whole time he felt the barrel of the gun pressing against his temple. He held his hands out to his sides to show that he was unarmed. Though that wasn't strictly true.

"Now now, no need to be hasty...Yeah. I already took it. It's in my pocket. You can reach in there and take it. I'd rather my head remained attached to my shoulders."

He gave her an easy smile. No matter which pocket she reached into, it would give him an opportunity.

"Might be we could still play a few of those games after all this is said and done..."

Bart's eyes went from her to the box, the empty bottom of which looked to be rusted and worn. No imprints of a key having ever been inside. Definitely a setup. But what good could come of setting him up? Had the law finally come up with a scheme to catch the ever-elusive Robbin Banks? It seemed too well put together for the sheriff and his gang...

His thoughts were jarred back to the present when she pushed the pistol harder against his head while she moved closer. Go on...pick a pocket, any pocket. Make my day.