The sun was shining in Paris. The autumn leaves were still clinging on to the limbs of the dear old trees as mid November rolled in. Despite the chill, everything was still in good spirit. After all, it was Paris: the city of love. Dreamy walks through Paris' many park lanes, the tall exquisite architecture, including the in construction marvel of modern architecture, the Eiffel tower. Clouds dotted the sky in the chilled breeze. The sky was blue, but not a soul in the streets was. The Parisians were holding a festival, to say the least, and all of the Frenchmen were preparing. For a merchant, a festival in one of the world's largest and powerful cities, it was a making in heaven. Thousands and thousands of visitors will be thronging the city soon, all trying to catch a glimpse of the New Paris. Why, such a thing hadn't been seen since the days of Napoleon Bonaparte ninety years back. Women in their huge dresses and men in their black ash jackets and coal colored top hats and white gloves walked the pavement by the famous Seine River. The river itself had been an attraction to the French capitol for many millennia, and now the eyes of awed spectators were still gazing it upon. The Seine happened to cascade near the open fair grounds, where hundreds of people milled about.
"Are you sure madam and monsieur are here?" Gourmand asked the famous, handsome, and dashing rogue adventurer, the red whirlwind, master of the Hockenheim, the one and only Edward Falcon.
The master of aviation turned to the cook, who was tapping his chubby fingers against the horseless carriages' steering wheel. "Excuse me Jean-Paul, but I'm not so bally flippin sure. We'll find out when they meet at the bloody blue and yellow tent."
Jean-Paul Gourmand sighed. "Pardon moil, monsieur. I'll be sure to keep an eye out."
"You better keep an eye out, or I'll send ye to Zulu!" Falcon replied.
"Yes sir." Gourmand moaned.
** *
The great Zeppelin Argentina lay tethered to an astonishingly high building. The crews and passengers were eagerly departing from their world trip and world-class voyage. Ayame leaped out from ship onto the loading pad, stretching her arms gingerly. Behind her came Granny Uematsu, lugging the, well, luggage on to the deck. There was an air of festivity abroad, and from glancing down upon the earth from here, one could easily make out Paris was in celebration.
"So this is Paris? Huh, thought it would be grander…" Granny commented.
"Nonsense Granny! See that building in construction over there! Accel says once it's completed, it will be taller than the empire State Building!" Ayame turned her grandmother s attention towards the metallic behemoth.
Granny was in awe. The over all monstrosity of the thing had over whelmed the very short and very old foreigner completely. She stood speechless as the Parisians went by here and there behind her. Ayame grinned a victory grin.
"Howdy A-YA-me." Accel waved as he walked down the boarding planks and onto the dock. Ayame turned and smiled towards the American. John Accel glanced at the old woman, and then at the object she was staring at. He tipped his hat and spat. "Hooey, now ain't that a biggun! Looks like a metal Devils Tower!"
"So what are you doing in Paris: the city of love?" Ayame giggled.
Accel walked towards Ayame and took off his mask. His eyes were blue. Baby blue. Beautiful blue. I could go on and on about the color of his optical ordinances, but I am sure that you have a general understanding. "Don't want to lose anything up here. Well I figured this, A-YA-me, I could either go to the city that never sleeps or the city of love. Which one sounds like a better pick to you?"
Ayame remained lost in his eyes, but was snapped back to the real world when she almost fell over the frozen elderly woman. She blushed and corrected herself. "A-of course! The city of love sounds a lot better than the city that never sleeps, though that doesn't sound like a bad idea either. Haha."
"Well, I better get going. Gotta train to catch. Headin out to Munchen to see the Oktoberfest!" Accel grinned.
"No! Wait!" Ayame burst. She grabbed the cowboys' arm, which created a surprised look on his face. "Um…what I mean to say is, how about you come with me to Manches?! We could use your help!"
"Huh?"
And Ayame repeated the entire story to Accel amidst the Frenchmen lollygagging around the airship docks…
** *
Galuda arrived safely from the New World. His ship pulled in to the fine docks on the seine, very close to the festival gathering. It was decided, early on, that Galuda had a great dislike of ships. Though he would never admit it, the large man had a great fear of traveling over the water in a giant tin can. As his moccasins touched the concrete earth, he sighed a sigh of relief. He was finally in Paris. Unfortunately, however, Galuda would have to ride a familiar ship on the way back to his people. The captain mentioned a line of ships that were in the process of being built that were supposedly unsinkable. The Titanic, the Lucitainia, so forth and so on. Galuda didn't really pay attention during all this. Great feats of engineering and construction were all lost on the traveler. However, he did pay attention to the grand tower before him. Over the heads of many a building rose a construct so huge it absolutely baffled him.
"Bonjour monsieur, welcome to Paris! The festival of the Autumn Leaf is about to begin! Would you like some information?" A man dressed as a sign spoke.
Galuda pulled the wee Frenchman to him and pointed out to the tower with his massive arm. "What is that tower?"
The signman gulped and was quick to reply. "Well monsieur, if you put my feet back on ze ground, I shall tell you, no?" The Native American did as told. "Ah, thank you very much. It's a regular tower of Babel, ain't it?"
The man noticed his saying meant nothing to Galuda. "Is that what it is called?"
The Barker gave a questionable look. "Eh, no. …You are an American, no?"
"No. Red Hand."
"Right... Well that is ze Eifel Tower! It isn't done right now, of coarse, but when it is, it will be taller than any building in ze world!"
"Eifel Tower… " Galuda put his fingers around his square jaw.
Galuda had been in large cities before, but every time he visited one, he felt like a fish out of water. The folks in these parts wore exquisite fashionable clothing that covered every inch of their body. Their skin was white and pale, and they looked upon Galuda with an inferiority complex. Galuda sighed.
"Hey Galuda!" A voice cried from the distance. Galuda turned towards the voice. It was none other than Rouge, the Persian fortuneteller. He smiled, a rare thing for Galuda, mind you, and walked to greet her near a blue and yellow tent.
Rouge was a slender young beautiful woman. Her hair was long and dark brown and her skin the color of light chocolate. Her deep brown eyes reflected mysticism, as did her wardrobe. She was in an odd Middle Eastern outfit, dark collars, and a blue strap around her bosom, and cautiously low blue Arabian pants. A white tiara with a ruby scarab was upon her crown, and only one eye visible due to her drooping thick bangs. Her hair was braided in the back all the way to her waist. She was clearly gorgeous. Galuda was married and a very polite gentleman.
"Hello Rouge." Galuda said as he approached the tent. "How do you fare?"
Rouge smiled a roguish smile. She brought Galuda's head down to hers where she whispered in his ear. "Falcon is on the other side of the tent waiting for us. They think I'm out. Hehehehe."
Galuda raised an eyebrow. "Why are you acting like a child? Falcon has spent a great deal of effort gaining our support."
Rouge looked surprised and then ashamed. "Oh Galuda, I guess you're right. …But I have one idea I want to practice. Hehehe."
** *
"Master Falcon, it has been well over an hour. It has been over five hours! We have been here since seven in the morning." Gourmand sighed.
"Gourmand. What did I say earlier?" Falcon said as he leaned on a street pole.
"They would be here?" Gourmand stated.
"After that?" Falcon looked heavenward.
"…You'd send me to fight in Zulu?" Gourmand said.
"Exactly. Now, do you want to sign up Her Majesty's Army?" Falcon asked rhetorically.
"…No monsieur."
"Then shut your blinkin hole. …I'm famished. Where can one get some scoff around here?" Falcon asked.
The tent flaps before the horseless carriage and the aviator suddenly flew open as a great wind rushed out. A blast was heard and purple smoke rolled out into the grounds. Falcon took immediate attention as Rouge and Galuda both appeared in the tent.
"Rouge? Galuda?" Falcon asked in disbelief.
"What's the matter Falcon?" Rouge smiled deviously. "Don't like a big flashy entrance?"
Galuda stepped out to the pilot and smiled. "It is good to see you Edward."
Falcon frowned and glanced to the horseless carriage. Gourmand could be seen shivering in fear underneath the seat. Falcon eyed the bug man. "Not Edward. Falcon. FALCON."
"So Falcon. Long time no see." Rouge greeted.
"Ah yes. So how have you chaps been?" Falcon raised his hand to both of them. Galuda and Rouge looked at each other. "Well, go on. Don't a feller know how to shake a mans hand, wot?!"
"Oh! Shake hands! Hahahaha. Oh, I thought that westerners only shook on formal business!" Rouge laughed.
"As did I." Galuda put it.
"Wot? No! We shake hands on everything! I bet you a shilling to a crown that an American told you that!" Falcon seemed unnerved.
"Actually yea." Rouge said.
"Yes." Galuda said.
"Alright. So we got everyone except Ayame! I wonder how she's been doing?" Falcon reported.
"Ayame? …who is Ayame?" Galuda questioned.
"Ayame, Ayame, Ayame… Oh! The Japanese girl! She's here?" rouge asked.
"Of course! This mission requires every bit of stealth we can muster!" Falcon grinned. "Ayame indeed! You know who she is!"
"Yes. The Japanese girl." Galuda in reality couldn't remember the little Asian girl for the life of him.
"So who's in the car?" Rouge pointed to the Frenchman.
"Oh that. He's Jean-Paul Gourmand. He's Julia's cook and will soon be enlisting to fight in the Zulu War in South Africa. Isn't that right Gourmand?" Falcon shouted.
"I'd hope to think not, monsieur." Gourmand replied.
"Hey Eddy!" A small voice screamed. Falcon couldn't help but look in the direction to notice Ayame running down the street. However in tow was a cowboy who happened to be carrying Ayame's still shocked grandmother. Falcon swallowed.
Rouge, Gourmand, Galuda, and Falcon all happened to shout at the same precise moment the same exact thing. "Not an American!"
Ayame, being fleet of foot, stopped right in front of the quartet. "Huh?"
Falcon put his boot towards the Asian girl. "Ayame, who's that?"
"That's John Accel. He's from Texas!" Ayame smiled.
"He's not coming with us, right honey?" rouge asked.
"He is, why?" Ayame blinked.
"Because he's an American. Reason enough." Galuda said, recognizing Ayame.
"We all know that Americans are the rudest, messiest, most rebellious people in the whole world!" Falcon stated.
"Howdy. I hear you have a problem." Accel said as he approached. "I'm John Accel, but you can call me Accel."
Falcon raised an eyebrow. The man seemed familiar. He didn't know why, but he swore he had seen him before.
"The American looks just like you Falcon." Galuda commented.
Falcon sighed. He glanced at Rouge, Galuda and Ayame. And then at Accel. "Jack the Slayer and Rootin Tootin Tex. This will turn up well."
