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"Up She Goes" The Expedition

New York City - 1897


a part of "Up She Goes" The Expedition, by diabolicalxdamsel.


diabolicalxdamsel holds sovereignty over New York City - 1897, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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New York City - 1897 is a part of "Up She Goes" The Expedition.

6 Characters Here

Cyla Jenkins [1] The Medic.
Martin Seigsmund [0] "The case is afoot."
Cormac MacKenna [0] "You just gonna stand there and look like an arse or are you gonna help me?"
Eva Willingham [0] "Don't worry, I'm sure there's a fire department somewhere"

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-arg how did I manage to post on here-

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-double post-

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For Carlotta Depaul, New York City was a chaotic, ashen, crowded, splendid machine with a life of its own. Every individual had their role in the great mechanism, and like clockwork she could see them fill and empty the streets like the ebb and flow of the Pacific as they motioned through their daily lives. For a year, Depaul's place had been inside a great warehouse at her late father's research facility. The murder of Antione Depaul stunned both the country and the science world. The world renowned scientist had been found dead in his hotel room in Berlin the night before he was to present his crowning achievement at the Great Industrial Exposition. He kept his seven year project a complete secret save for his trusted apprentice, Cormac MacKenna. Even his daughter was left in the dark about his work. The official story states that Dr. Depaul died asleep in his bed under mysterious circumstances. However, Carlotta had suspected something more. The coroner noted a strange pinprick at the back of his neck. The police report state that the man died in the early evening which struck his daughter as strange because he never went to bed earlier than two o' clock in the morning. He always kept late hours, the gears never stopping in his mind. Carlotta inherited that trait and stubbornly fought to have his case reexamined. She decided to take matters into her own hands. She hung her hat as captain of L'espirit de Normandie , a fine racing airship that flew her crew to second place in the last National Aeronautics Relay. She turned from her budding fame, and worked alongside MacKenna to build another kind of vessel, one that could stand traversing the globe. Carlotta had compiled a list of six possible suspects, friends and rivals to her father. She planned to make a special visit to each of them with her detective, Martin Siegsmund. He was believed to be the best in the business and she offered a handsome salary for his services and an even handsomer bonus should he solve the case.

The finished vessel was a marvel. It was sleek, larger than a racing ship, but smaller than most long distance ships. It was a simple design with no real external aesthetics. The exterior was the dull gray color of lead that hadn't been bothered to be buffed or polished. Most would probably go so far as to say The Scalawag was ugly. Depaul had wanted something inconspicuous and unnoticable. It's beauty lay on the inside. Several gigantic fuel reservoirs promised nonstop passage from place to place, lessening the need for extra fuel stops. The engine was a model of efficiency with three small but powerful backup generators to ensure that it remained functioning no matter what disaster. A modern intercom system had been installed for communication. The ship possessed plenty of storage for food and daily needs, but it was severely lacking in one area: defense. Carlotta had plans to seek an armed vessel to travel with her crew to ensure their safety. Unfortunately, there was only one man she trusted with the job: Marshall Boone. Boone was captain of The Rocky Top Rose and four year national champion. Boone was the sweetheart of the airship racing world and Depaul detested that smirking hillbilly hobgoblin to no end.

Two months before departure, Depaul set out to New York Harbor where Boone kept his ship while he worked a rather interesting secondary occupation smuggling illegal goods. This information was quite new to Depaul, and she hoped she wouldn't need to use it. As she made her way towards the hanger where she hoped to find Boone, she took noticed of the faces that greeted her. Some eyed her breeches with mixed reactions of amusement, confusion, or contempt. Others recognized her and hallooed a greeting. She had a woman's shape with coppery brown hair that was tied back in a bunch of curls and steel gray eyes that remained focused on the direction of her footsteps. However she dressed and carried herself like a man with a rigid, marching stride. Her lips thinned into a line as she approached the pair of metal doors. She could not believe she had to go through with this. Though she loathed Boone, she could read him like a book. She already knew how the meeting would unfold. She would approach him, biting back every bit of pride she had and he would see her squirming under her discomfort. He would love it, wallow in it, extend her suffering as long as she could and he would laugh, point out the humorousness of the situation, and dangle indecision in front of her until she wanted to slap him.

And she was almost correct except for his indecision.

"Afraid I can't Depaul" he said after handing her back the proposal and contract she had written.

"Your salary is negotiable" she replied.

Boone shook his head, lips already tugging into that awful smirk.

"Of course it is, princess, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news: you can't buy everyone off. I have some real important work to attend to and I ain't got time to be hop-froggin all over the planet keeping your pampered hide outta trouble."

"We just need a few extra guns ready to fend off pirates."

"And to fend off the folks you piss off with that mouth of yours. Don't think I haven't what happened in that bar in Los Angeles."

"I had everything under control."

"Did your ribs mend alright? I think I remember seeing somebody's boot stomp on them. You talk about payment, but I don't even recall being compensated for saving you then."

"You didn't have to. I was holding my own."

"Look, I'm sure it will be a grand little adventure, but I prefer making my own way"

"You have control over your situation?"


"Much like I did in Los Angeles?"

"You admitting that I rescued you?"

"Take the job, Boone."

"How about this: we keep our job professional. You call me an asshole, I call you a tramp, the papers eat it up, I beat you in the air, you pout in my ticker-tape celebration, and occasionally we have to drink at the same bar. You're...well you're a heck of a dame, Depaul, and I never expected you to want this sorta commitment from me, but I don't think I'm ready to take things further." He winked.

Depaul scowled.

"I suppose you aren't. Such a pity we couldn't reach a deal, Boone. I hear income is getting harder to come by in the world of easy money. Farewell”

She turned on her heel. It looked like she would have to try to be a little more persuasive next time. She knew another way of getting Boone on board. She hated the very thought, but he left her no choice. She went directly home to send a letter to his business associate and first mate. Plan two would commence in the morning.


Insanity thought Marshall Boone as he watched the aviatrix's back retreat back into the open air. His rivalry with the hot-tempered captain had become a regular installment in the papers during racing season. Her parting words left the slightest feeling of unease. Did she know? He took a deep swig of beer and wiped the foam from his stubbly upper lip. He wouldn't put it behind her. The woman was sharp and seized every opportunity to get a leg up on him, that is until her old man croaked. Looking back, she did seem even more humorless than usual. Then again he supposed losing a loving father could cause that. He wouldn't know; his own pops never cared for him much. He had missed fighting for position against her Normandie while zipping though the Grand Canyon at the Aeronautics Relay. Winning felt too easy this time around. Dr. Deapaul himself bought Carlotta one of the finest racing vessels he ever laid eyes on, and he accredited a good deal of the captain's success to the quality of her ship. She did have a thimbleful of natural talent, and she kept he and his crew on their toes, but no amount of money could buy his experience. Depaul was a very technical, by-the-book flyer. He could tell that she had received plenty of lessons and education in the sport, but she lacked that special sort of awareness that came with spending every waking moment on deck and sometimes taking off like the devil himself was making chase.

Over the span of some twenty years, Boone gained those skills and knowledge. He started on a giant clunker of a merchant ship swabbing decks, passing out meals, and hauling goods across the globe. Later he would run a business of his own though the cargo he carried would be frowned upon by most bureaucrats and lawmen. Racing kept plenty of cash during part of the year, but smuggling kept the bills paid during the rest of it. He grew out his beard during the off season to help avoid detection. His name and face was well known in the states, but luckily unfamiliar in the foreign ports he frequented. However, tensions between various countries had been increasing as more and more colonized lands demanded independence. New ideas were at odds with old ones. He noticed border security increasing, especially on borders along the sea. Port inspectors became more through as they searched ships and Boone found himself taking fewer and fewer risks with his cargo. Money had gotten tight, so tight that he had to take out a few loans from some unsavory folks in order to keep his business afloat.

He threw back the last dregs of his drink and dropped some change on the table. He thought about Depaul's offer. He could already see Cecil shaking his head and calling him a damn fool for passing on the job. He gut was already telling him he made a mistake, or maybe it was the three lagers he just drank. Perhaps it was a mistake, but he wasn't about to let that little French tart think for a moment that he was for sale like everyone else she threw money at. He recalled the aftermath of his second race against Depaul. They were in Williams, Arizona where the mayor and his wife were hosting a congratulatory celebration. The missus had become warm and friendly as she sipped her glass of brandy and had been praising yet another success from Boone and his crew. Cecil flirted shamelessly with the lady, but she had already affixed herself to Boone's arm much to his dismay. He tried to steer the conversation towards another subject such as the second place winners. The mayor's wife cared nothing for Depaul and her crew and loudly proclaimed her suspicion that "those girls" on the crew only flew for the attention. To Depaul's credit, she composed herself until the lady proceeded to insult Le Normandie . In one marvelously swift motion, Depaul took several paces towards them and decked the lady squarely on the mouth. A sea of flashbulbs captured Mrs. Mayor as she fell back on the banquet table, but there was not a peep about the incident in the papers the next day. She must have paid off at least ten different journalists and of course she had to give the mayor a good sum to keep his mouth shut. She later boated about man's folly and how she could always depend on their greed if she got herself into a mess.

(post will be continued)

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It already felt like a long day for Cyla as she sat in the back of a Cabaret Club smoking a long pipe. The men drinking around her were more rowdy than usual and by early afternoon there had already been more arguments than she cared to count.

"Ms. Jenkins, I'm surprised to see you here in this place still, smoking never the less. Shouldn't you be...elsewhere?" Michael Hays, owner of the Club and longtime family friend, asked Cyla as he took a seat across from her. She'd sigh softly and ignore the disapproval in his eyes over her smoking. "I thought it would be nice to visit your lovely establishment once more before heading off." Cyla sarcastically commented, in light of all the fights that had occurred this morning. "I have enjoyed my time back home, however it will be nice to be back out there you know?"
Cyla could notice the relief on Micheal's face as she pushed her pipe to the side, and she would momentarily consider picking it back up just to watch him squirm, but decided against it. The two would go on to discuss Cyla's upcoming journey, The Scalawag, and Carlotta herself.
"How does that woman seem to you? I fear she's too brash, I hope you don't take lessons from her, you can be bad enough."
"She's really not such an awful lady, and I am never bad, i take offense to that Mr. Hays."
Before anything else could be said another fight would break out, this time over the women chosen to perform on stage. Enough was enough for Cyla, and as Michael made his way over to break the scuffle up she'd bid him farewell with a wave and polite smile before grabbing the suitcase she had walked in with earlier and making her way out.


A woman walking alone with a suitcase definitely stood out some, even in the big city, so it was a good thing the walk from the Cabaret Club to where she was to meet Carlotta and company was relatively short.

"Well, I beleive this is it." Cyla thought herself as she approached the aircraft hangar. "Hmm, where should I knock? Or should I even bother knocking on such a massive doorway....." she wondered aloud, and within thirty seconds or so - as if someone heard her - the large doors of the hangar would slowly but surely begin to pull apart, bringing Cyla's new temporary home of sorts into view. "Ah, this must be The Scalawag."

After pausing for a moment to take the airship in Cyla would begin walking towards it, calling out for whoever opened the hangar. "Hello?"