Oct 29, 2020 4:13 AM
Lucy gets warped to a different place and time in the Fallen London universe
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"Not here. And I was relatively early through the Horizon, time was wonky beforehand, so I know it's not all lies."

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"Okay, that's definitely a relevant data point. I still have to question the wisdom of going through at all, in those circumstances. For her, I mean, I'm sure individual people all had their own reasons to follow."

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"I can't really speculate. And I should get back to work organizing things, if you don't mind..."

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"Yeah, of course." 

She takes off for the next Workworld. 

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This one is in the middle of a violent uprising! Furious workers fill the trainyard, and the Overseers are holding their little closed town at a choke-point with gatling guns.

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Lucy lands on the choke-point and destroys a gatling gun with one claw. 

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Are there suspiciously few people here in this narrow spot with a bunch of piled boxes and sandbags and stuff-? The four who were here are running at top speed.

KABOOM.

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OW. 

Shards of diamond and splashes of blood go everywhere. She shriekes nonmagical obscenities in Correspondence and glows to accelerate her own healing. 

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Nobody shoots at her. They all make for cover or further-away buildings.

The bridge is now out. Charitably, that could have been the goal here.

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She transforms and ducks behind a piece of rubble to pull her dress on. 

"Hi. Sorry about the, uh, exciting entrance."

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The churning angry crowd is very loud, but she can address the closer ones. "What are you??? Who. Are you." "You're not with the Overseers, are you?" "No more work, we won't stand for it!"

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"I'm the person who's been evacuating the Workworlds."

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They thought that was just an excuse for crackdowns! Or that the Overseers were planning to murder them all. It was the final straw. Her smashing their gun and being blown up for it makes them preeetty inclined to believe her, though. She may have a problem communicating this to, uh, the ongoing riot, however. (In the distance, a fuelling shed collapses with a crash and a cheer goes up).

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"Iiiiii'm just going to go glow mountain-light at everyone until they calm down. They have to calm down eventually." 

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This works surprisingly quickly. Especially if she transforms and flies above for it. Soon the crowd is peaceful, though still disorganized.

(There are three Dreadnoughts and a single strangely-designed locomotive, smaller but longer with a curious pair of rails running all down its length, approaching from the west. Locomotives are not really all that fast, they'll take a couple hours to get here.)

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Uh. Hm. 

She pulls out a notebook and sketches the weird locomotive.

"Does anyone recognize this?" she asks. 

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...After some time rumor and third-hand newspaper clippings are combined and they determine that it's probably the new "Monitor" class of locomotives, London's newest warship with a super-high-speed cannon.

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"So like a Dreadnought but moreso. Okay. They look to be a couple hours out, can you all get yourselves and your stuff to a central staging point in a couple of hours." 

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That sounds hard! The resistance people have been planning for an uprising, not an evacuation! Many workers are already streaming back down into the Workworld to gather up their stuff, though.

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"Okay, you guys work on shifting gears to evacuation, I'll work on stymying the government." 

And she ducks back behind the rubble and disrobes and transforms and goes off to intercept the military locomotives. It takes her much less than a couple hours; she is faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive. 

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The Dreadnoughts spread out in a futile attempt to surround and herd her, firing away with turreted Gatling guns. The Monitor stays back.

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The guns chip shards of diamond off her sides, but fail to penetrate as deeply as the explosives. She makes a beeline for the Monitor, grasping for it with her claws. 

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The Monitor is nimble, but not that nimble. It doesn't even bother firing a shot. Instead, a lean and scarred captain is shouting at his crew to 'burn the records while we still can'.

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Ooh, shouldn't've shouted. She speaks the word that cuts off voluntary muscle movement, loudly enough to cover the whole train but not loudly enough that it would seep into their breathing and kill them. 

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The Monitor's crew is no longer doing anything. The five Dreadnoughts are wheeling about and shooting at her, still.

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