Murder on the Victorian Express (IC)

[Supercape]

GM

"Curses"

As the train started to grind to a halt, Ramstein roared his anger. To make matters worse, Fenris has caught him. Two uncoscious drivers were at his feet. He was holding a large wrench, and it looked (to Fenris astute eye) as if the engine, all cogs and steam (as befitted this dimension) had been jammed.

"You meddling idiots! You aren't even British! Gott in Himmel! Soon they will destroy the uberland and the name of Rammstein! Germany will be ruined under their boots! But I, the Great Rammstein the fifth, will show them what it means to be a man! I will still fight!"

He hefted his Wrench and gave a roar of challenge at Fenris.

[Aoiroo]

He didn't really get a chance to get a hit in though. Carrie was already past Fenris, and ducked low in her dress as she made a quick leg sweep into Ramstein. He and his wrench went down like a charging bull and Carrie danced around his back and went over to check on the drivers. They were still breathing even if they were conked out. She looked over at Miss Wells,

"Can you translate? I don't speak crazy British man."

[Supercape]

GM

"Ow" yelped Ramstein as he fell flat on his rear.

"Kampf auf meinem Arsch!" he muttered from his undignified position.

Ms. Wells coughed politely. "I believe our saboteur, whilst rather Mad, is more German than British. And to translate, he is not best pleased about being forced on his backside by your swift actions, My dear" she interjected.

[KnightDisciple]

GM/NPC

Fenris stood there impassively as Carrie knocked Ramstein down. Taking a moment to calculate his shot, as well as to put a bit of extra juice into his Particle Projection Cannon, he raised his right arm and fired a bolt of bright lightning at the prone man.

"Bleiben Sie auf Ihrem hinter sich."

Fenris just stood there, looking menacing.

"In other words, stay down."

Energy continued to crackle around the barrel of his weapon.

[Supercape]

GM

Ramstein was hit fair and square by Fenris' energy cannon, and bathed briefly in its glow. Even a man of his impressive physique and rugged determination was no match for the power armour from another dimension.

"Foiled..."

"...British Swine..."

He managed to murmur before he fell unconscious on the train floor.

"What a shame, such a talented man..." sighed Ms. Wells as the German aristocrat collapsed in a heap "...it seems the German's are not quite so neutral to the empire as once we had supposed. But then again, they spend half their energy or more squabbling over each other, as far as we can tell. A load of infighting nobles. Well, it was probably only a matter of time before one of them took out his frustrations on the empire. Shame it had to be such a man as Ramstein".

[Cubist]

There was pain.

Buildup of lactic acid in my bloodstream, Jubatus thought, and giving a name to the cause helped him dismiss the pain from his attention. Also helpful was the fact that in recent months, he'd gotten so very much practice ignoring pain. He knew his anatomy was strictly quadrupedal; he knew that his customary bipedal posture inflicted all kinds of unnatural stresses on his body, stresses which that body simply wasn't designed to handle; he knew that in all probability, it was just a matter of time before his irrational insistence on constantly going bipedal resulted in irreparable damage to his spine or tendons or, well, something, anyway. The fastest cat alive wasn't stupid; he knew all that. But even the thought of lowering himself down on all fours, like a damned animal...

In Jube's eyes, putting up with some comparatively trivial aches and pains was by far the lesser evil. Pain was something he could live with, easy.

So Jubatus kept pushing against the train, trying to bring Vulcan-only-knew how many dekatons of rolling steel to a safe halt by sheer force of will -- and the force from musculature that was good for 700-plus horsepower. He knew he could stop the train if he just kept applying that force for a long-enough time, and TIme was something he had plenty of. The tempo-of-40 upshifting which boosted his muscles up to 700-plus horsepower meant he had a full two-thirds of a minute for every second that ticked by on a clock.

Of course, every silver lining had a dark cloud. Cheetahs weren't exactly noted for their endurance in the first place; worse, running at a tempo of 40 meant he was burning through his body's energy at an effective rate 40* greater than normal. Well, that was why Jube carried beef jerky and energy drinks in his vest; again, he wasn't stupid. Sadly, there was a limit to how much 'fuel' he could carry at any one time, and he'd just finished eating his way through his on-hand supplies...

There was pain.

Pain was okay. Jubatus knew how to deal with pain. Pain was much easier to handle than the alternative: Namely, the knowledge that he could have assisted in preserving the lives of every passenger on the train... if he'd only bothered to try.

[Supercape]

GM

Later...

The Brit Machine repaired, Ms. Wells stood by Fenris, Carrie, and Jubatus.

The local police had arrived in more force, and made sure they clapped heavy Irons on Ramstein, who spat and cursed with bitter fury. Yes, he had manipulated the Thugee - payed them off and promised to supply them weapons. It was he who had committed the murder, and then manipulated the Thugee into being scapegoats.

Celebratory drinks were served, with the chief of police, Ms. Wells, Mr. Drumbridge, and Lord Willowbreak all joining in the congratulations. Jubatus' odd appearance raised more than a few eyebrows, and Lord Willowbreak reached for his gun when seeing him, eyeing up another trophy, no doubt.

The heroes were the toast of the Victorian Express.

"Well done indeed" added Ms. Wells. "I'm sure there are medals for you, if you fancy that kind of nonsense. But I suspect you may wish to return back to Colonial Earth...I mean, what you call Earth Prime, soon? The Brit Machine is ready and waiting!"

[Cubist]

It was a good thing that Jay Xavier's sense of humor was so black it occasionally lapsed into the ultraviolet. Because of that, he was able to be amused by the reflexive dangerous animal, [run away|kill it]! responses so many of the Victorians displayed when they first laid eyes on him. To their credit, they did tend to stifle those responses nigh-immediately; it wasn't their fault that Jay's accelerated eyes could catch them in the act. So the fastest cat on two worlds tolerated the borrowed clothes he wore for the occasion, and made a conscious effort to put a lid on his customary levels of Snark and Sarcasm whilst mingling with the natives, and trusted his high-speed metabolism to keep him sober as he joined in the communal consumption of alcohol. And when Miss Steampunk finally got to the important bit (namely, when would the Earth-Prime residents get to return to their world of origin?):

"Can't speak for anyone else, Miss Wells, and wouldn't want to, either," Jubatus replied. "But as far as I'm concerned, medals are just lagniappe. Granted, if you happen to have a medal on you, I wouldn't throw it back in your face... Still and all, I'd just as soon go home now. Please?"

[Aoiroo]

Carrie had no problem rejecting the drinks, she really really didn't feel like it. As the congradulations were piled on and the mention of a new medal she just stopped there,

"I agree with Jay, one's enough for me as it is as much trouble that comes with it."

She smiled on that last part, but she really wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and sleep for a good long while, or maybe just laid down because of how tired she was.

[Supercape]

GM

"I understand, load of fuss and nonsense if you ask me!" replied Ms. Wells, with a soft smile on her face.

It was not long before she had orchestrated a little distraction, and wrapped up the celebratory trinks. By using some scientific mumbo jumbo that only Fenris could understand (that is, he understood it was complete baloney), she excused herself and the three heroes on the grounds of "cross-focus interdimensional vectorisation of hyrbid collapse" which obviously needed some sorting back at the rear carriage.

And then, it was not long before the trip back to Earth Colonial - or Earth Prime, via the same stream of strangeness that had lead them there in the first place. This time, with Jubatus not being dragged along in its wake, the voyage was considerably smoother.

"Back in one piece" smiled Ms. Wells, as they landed in Freedom City, where they had departed.

[KnightDisciple]

GM/NPC

Fenris politely refused any drink, citing difficulties routing it through his armor. In truth, he just didn't want to impede his reasoning while wearing it. Or show off his real face, alternate dimension or no.

It hadn't been that difficult to help stop the train from the inside; despite the stylistic differences, certain mechanical principles carried over from his world, and he'd always had a head for this sort of thing. Part of him enjoyed tinkering with the new and different material.

Sadly, all such things came to an end. Though, honestly, going home was a relief for him. He had things to do besides play hero in another dimension.

He stepped smoothly from the Brit Machine when they arrived home.

"And only a couple of new scratches on the armor to show for it. Well, I'm glad we could help you out, ma'am. Hopefully things stay sorted for a while."

He eyed the other two, before shrugging.

"Was interesting working with all of you. Have a good day."

And with a flash of light and rush of air, he was gone.

[Aoiroo]

Stretching as she got off the brit machine she took a few steps found a TV displaying the news, half an hour, that's how long they had been gone in this world. Not to bad though her watch said longer. She glanced over at Miss Wells before pulling out her medal and looking at Jay,

"Hey, you think you have a spare one of these for Mr. Xavier here? Might be handy if he could give you a call if he happens to slip through another dimensional rift. This does work against dimensions right?"

[Cubist]

"Hey, you think you have a spare one of these for Mr. Xavier here? Might be handy if he could give you a call if he happens to slip through another dimensional rift. This does work against dimensions right?"

They'll serve sno-cones in Hell before I ever do that again, was Jubatus' reflexive, automatic reaction to the thought of another interdimensional misadventure. Not if If I got anything to say about it, at least... Then again, the misadventure just past hadn't exactly been a planned excursion, had it? In fact... given the meagre data he had to work with, Jube suspected he'd be in for a replay of said misadventure any time the Brit Machine entered this dimension while he was using his Timeshift power.

"Or you could use it to give me some advance warning the next time you drop by Freedom City," the cheetah said. "Probably make your exit a lot smoother."

[Aoiroo]

"All the more reason you should have a little dimensional walkie talkie because otherwise I don't see how she'll be able to call ahead. By the way, how many of these Brit Machines do you guys over in Earth Victoriana have? I mean seriously, if this is giving Jay feedback someone else from you're realm might suck any other wouldbe speeders into there cosmic jetstreams. Or god forbid zoomers, those guys do NOT need another reason for there hearts to be stopping."

The situation around Jay's involvement really was quite horrifying if you stopped to think about it. It worked out this time, but as unpleasant as dimensional travel was with a proper device surrounding, without was probably way worse.

[Supercape]

GM

Ms. Wells rummaged around in the Brit Machine, answering as she searched.

"Yes, it one of a kind this, my own invention too. Devil of a thing to build, had to have help of course. Runs on Victorium, which is rather difficult to...aha! here we are!"

Ms. Wells turned to face Jubatus and Carrie, her face smeared with oil from her work on the machine. She tossed Jubatus a battered, rusty old lump of metal. On close inspection, it looked a bit like a medal.

"Prototype model, still works. Not too shiny, of course, but hey ho" she explained.

With that she dipped her hat, and sat back inside of the Brit Machine. With the customary pull of levers, rotation of knobs, and whistling of copper pipes, the Machine promptly swam away from view, and from this dimension.

"Until the next time!" came Ms. Wells voice from the aether...

~ Fin ~