Baccano!: Bandit's Sojourn
Chapter 3: Those Selected by Fate Converge as the Fair Lady Triumphantly Departs- Open Air
The commotion commences...
September 25th, 1938.
Battery Park, New York City.
It was a grand, glorious gathering.
In southern New York City, Battery Park, to be precise, there was a hustle unlike any other. Along the waterfront, a gargantuan crowd, immeasurable in number, had gathered to witness the commencing of a certain event that had drawn each and every one of them to the park on this cold yet bright September afternoon. It was an event that was heavily publicized through any means available, from posters to newspapers, and it was one that people from all walks of life attended, profession, colour, creed and status being of no importance. And as well as being these, it was a landmark- for this event had carved itself its own place in history.
The reason it was such was because this event marked something notable, very much so, and had gained distinction, both genuinely special and dubious. The reason as to why this event had garnered these varying types of fame was a simple one- it was entirely due to what this special circumstance was. This, namely, was the ceremony of the launching of an airship, and not any run of the mill example of such a vessel, either. It was a ship christened with the name "Fair Lady", and why the craft was not any ordinary one was because of what company manufactured it, which was also the cause for it getting its first type of fame.
The manufacturer was Nebula, a long-standing company formerly headed by the renowned Carl Muybridge, which, over the many years since its foundation, due to, in no small part, Muybridge's stellar tactical strategies for the company, had spread its tendrils to almost every field of business imaginable- agriculture, book publishing, insurance, chemical engineering and, more recently, research and development of military equipment, and it continued to flourish and expand under the guidance of his successor, Karl Mavris. It also had ties to the transport sector, and, as a result, in order to make the most of the company's relation with said sector, Mavris had decided to have his company perform something previously undone, moving it into uncharted territory; to carry out the construction of an airship, to both aid the air transport sector and to give passengers a truly enjoyable travelling experience, for Karl Mavris was a man who aimed to please.
This was also the reason for the event garnering the second kind of fame it received- it was an airship, and the cataclysmic tragedy that was the Hindenburg disaster, which had only occurred only just over a mere year ago, was still fresh in the minds of many, including employees of Nebula, and in the weeks leading up to the launch of this newly commissioned vessel, many people, especially reporters from such prestigious papers as the New York Times and Daily Days, had expressed growing concern and even fear for the day when the Fair Lady would disembark on its maiden voyage with many expecting a repeat of the catastrophe that befell the Hindenburg, and, despite repeated reassurances from Mavris himself with regards to his and his company's scheme, ensuring many time and time again that nothing could go wrong, no tragedy would occur, and that there was not even the slightest possibility of any error manifesting, they did have reason.
But, despite the worry, fear and doubt, the Fair Lady was nevertheless constructed, unimpeded by the concerns of others, and here it stood in front of the gathered masses, a sleek, rigid midnight blue titan that truly dwarfed any of its predecessors, its sheer size giving an obvious hint as to how many passengers could gather within it, with an evidently capacious gondola for the crew, for the passenger decks were internalized, attached to the vessel's underside, with a third striking feature, this being the Nebula emblem emblazoned on the tail fin, suspended above the body of water over which it hung motionless by a mooring mast and having a walkway of sorts leading up to it from the waterfront, both constructed for this occasion.
And along this elongated walkway, in the very midst of the hubbub and in the centre of the shuffling swarm of onlookers, walked the privileged passengers of the grand vessel, progressing towards the entrance of the ship at the walkway's end in a slow-moving procession. They were given less attention by the surrounding crowd than the ship itself, for, indeed, many had come to bear witness to the ship and not to its to-be occupants, but they were, at the least, eye-catching, for they were the honoured and advantaged handful destined to ride within the confines of the ovular beast that lay before them.
And, much like the aforementioned airship, the throng of passengers had a special air to it, formed through the presence of a few remarkable individuals.
The first of these individuals was remarkable for two reasons.
The first reason was how sheerly ordinary he looked when compared to the crowd surrounding him from all sides. Whereas the majority of those around him were clad in vibrant and no doubt expensive livery, this man, in contrast, was garbed in a simple suit and overcoat, topped off with a plain fedora perched atop his head at a slanted angle, serving to shadow his eyes and the most of the upper half of his face.
The second reason was because of who and what this man was under his standard, plaid appearance.
Who he was was Karl Rhodes, and what he was was a reporter for the renowned Daily Days newspaper company. He wasn't any usual reporter by any set of standards, however- this man, this Karl Rhodes, was a most prolific member of the company, having written numerous articles on equally numerous incidents around the world with his distinct to-the-point style of writing, and he quickly rose to fame upon publishing an article of the infamous incident that occurred aboard the luxury train known as the Flying Pussyfoot almost a decade ago, discussing the incident and the various factions involved in depth and debating over the true culprits, and also pondering over the existence of the entity known as the 'Rail Tracer'- having obtained information on it when he had met with a survivor of the incident who he could only now recall as a woman clad in deep green working clothes who had been rather reluctant to divulge what information she had.
However, following this rather sudden rise to fame, Karl had attained something of a celebrity status, something that he came to dislike intensely, and, as a result, he took to disguising himself as best he could whenever he undertook outings, with this occasion being a prime example of one such outing- hence, the reason for his decidedly normal choice of clothing.
Already, as Karl moved onwards amidst the sea of fellow passengers, and already sticking out grossly due to his rather bland attire, being an icon of plainness in a swarming mass of flair and pomp, he felt that many had cast glances his was, and, indeed, he was correct- many curious onlookers had looked upon the man in the plain suit and fedora, with many commenting on his appearance, their remarks unheard by the man himself. A few others, however, had questioned who was hiding under that fedora's brim and his distinctly unglamorous appearance, and were intrigued by the thought of who he possibly was.
Karl himself, while unaware of the whispers being directed at him, certainly detected glances, at the least, thrown his way on his end by various onlookers, and, as he usually did, proceeded to shrug them off. And, as he progressed towards the vessel that loomed before him, one singular thought was present inside his mind:
I damn well hope I'll go undisturbed.
This was a thought that continued to circulate repeatedly within the confines of his mind as he made his way amidst the swarm towards the colossal airship, shuffling along with the ranks of the rich and the influential.
It was also one that persisted, even as, after a lengthy and rather irritating slog through the mass of those who lived in the lap of relative luxury, he reached the ticket master, who was, for the most part, preoccupied with idly registering each new arrival- that was, of course, until he caught sight of the aberration clad in plain clothing.
Karl's disguise, while often effective, was not always impervious; indeed, though he had generally avoided harassment many a time in the past, he had earned his fair share of run-ins with people who had managed to see past his often homely outward appearance and who had subsequently bombarded him with a slew of questions, much to his chagrin. This aforementioned ticket master was one of them, for he had briefly glimpsed what could be seen of Karl's visage underneath the fedora that served to mask his face from view.
Karl, however, from experience with such folk, reacted swiftly, knowing that he'd been glimpsed, and the ticket master barely had the chance to utter "Excuse me, sir, I have a question-", before Karl strode quickly over to him and hurriedly hushed him, telling him, to the point, in a stern tone:
"Don't call me out in a place like this, kid." He briefly motioned to the teeming multitude of people behind him which began to shuffle past him, and then continued with, "Do you really want to attract attention to me here? I've already been given enough glances as it is."
He paused a moment, and took a look at the ticket master's face, which now bore a rather apologetic and somewhat downcast expression, and then sighed at the sight, proceeding to hastily retract his previous statements. "Eh, sorry...I just don't want to be bothered. I know you wanted to ask a simple question- right?"
The ticket master nodded, somewhat meekly, saying in response, "Yes, just...if you don't mind me asking, are you really Ka-"
The journalist was quick to cut off the young man again, but his tone was not an annoyed one. Even so, Karl hurried his words, speaking in a whisper so as not to alert unaware others to his identity, wanting to board the airship as soon as humanly possible. "Yes, I am- Rhodes, the man himself, you name it." He paused once more, thinking of what to add on briefly, and said, "I obviously can't talk now, though," in an attempt to appease the young man, for it was doubtless that he had a desire to properly converse with him, "maybe later. For now, though, I need to board, since I'm on an important errand, so...could you save it for later?"
The ticket master, suddenly beaming, nodded once again, and his reply reflected his new-found satisfaction. "Of course! When I have time, that is, but...I'd be glad to!"
With that, Karl returned a small nod in affirmation, turned away, and merged once again with the crowd behind him, entering the vessel, and heaving a heavy sigh of relief in the process.
Karl was not the only notable face in the crowd, too.
The second of the many remarkable people that lingered among the crowd was a whole different man from the aforementioned journalist. He was a short, portly and unassuming man, bespectacled, with a head of eye-catching blond hair, dressed in attire that appeared to be oddly militaristic in design. At first glance, this man was decidedly normal, with only his clothing and facial appearance being likely to garner any attention.
Anyone who properly knew this man, however, knew otherwise.
This man, a German fellow going by the name of Maximillian, was about as far from the mere concept of being normal as anyone could get, certainly so in regards to his state of mind, for behind a mask of relative normalcy lay the fevered mind of a madman of the highest order, a lunatic by every measure conceivable, and a man who had a very limited grasp of the idea of sanity- many people who knew him were all too aware of this. However, no-one who didn't know him, despite all of this, could infer that the man was deranged in the slightest, and if anyone who didn't know him happened to be informed that he was mad, they wouldn't understand why.
Quite why he wasn't sound of mind could be attributed one main reason- he was addicted to the thought of war, and that was something that he was eager to show at any given opportunity or even entirely at random, so immersed was he in the mere idea of conflict and destruction. To add to this, in his native land, this crazed being had a position in the upper echelons of the German military, a fact that made even more people, namely his subordinates and superiors, wary of him, and a fact that allowed him to put whatever twisted plans he concocted inside his equally twisted mind into practice- or, at the very least, suggest his schemes, for the grand majority of his plans were often so utterly morbid that even his companions rejected them.
Of course, no-one around him presently knew that he was unhinged, nor that he was a military man, even though his clothing said the opposite. Even so, and almost in spite of his somewhat normal appearance, he managed to radiate an aura that was outright malicious, something that he developed through his unrivalled adoration of strife and warfare.
It was this aura, when the German had reached the end of the shuffling column of passengers, that the ticket master noticed, and as the blonde man sidled by him, he immediately eyed him with intense suspicion. This glance, however, did not go unnoticed, as the German man stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head to look at him. The ticket master visibly shuddered out of fear at the glance he received, and the fact that the man was suddenly grinning for no readily apparent reason didn't help matters. The ticket master stood in abject silence, and, in contrast, the German queried, in an interested, curious and eerily jocose tone:
"Is there something wrong?"
The ticket master initially stuttered, searching for a reply to this man who frankly disturbed him, and eventually sputtered out a simple "Not at all!" before lapsing back into awkward silence once again.
In response, the grinning German man simply looked at the ticket master inquisitively for a fleeting moment, and replied, still with out-of-place merriment, "Are you certain? You look...ill at ease. If I do say so myself, of course."
Another period of odd silence passed between the two, briefly hanging over them like a shroud, tangible, almost, only broken when the German abruptly leaned forward, still grinning, and asked, curious, "Are you ill at ease, then?", and the young ticket master's offered the same reaction as a reply- nervously repeating "Not at all!", accompanied by him frantically shaking his head from side to side, for he was pining beyond all else to hastily finish his conversation with this man who so unnerved him by appearance alone, adding "Everything's, er, fine!" as an afterthought, in order to placate this figure and prevent him from questioning him any further. The German simply nodded, still wearing that grin of his, and uttered:
"Very well- that's good! I just took notice of that glance you sent my way. Noticed that it was one of wariness, yes? I get those looks often, I'll divulge that to you, but fret not...I can assure you that I'm harmless. Relatively. Besides, if anything, the one thing you should ever worry about is this voyage- whether or not it'll go down the same path as the one Hindenburg did, hm?"
The German briefly tittered at his own dark joke, and then concluded, waving farewell to the bewildered ticket master with an utterance of "Hope it succeeds!", and the young man could only sigh in relief as the German merged once again with the crowd and entered the ship, for he was no longer in the presence of a man he thought to be a lunatic, and all the while unaware that, almost blissfully, he had not been privy to the full potential of the madman.
There existed a final individual, or, rather, a group of them, that qualified as being noteworthy, and, much like Karl, they, too, attracted glances, and with good reason.
This group consisted of a party of girls, thirty in number, and all appearing to be in their teens, with a handful of exceptions, one particularly notable exception being the leader of the pack, a short girl who looked no older than ten, clad in a striking frilled dress, having a head of absurdly long blond hair that extended down to her knees, and a pair of salient sapphire eyes, and all of this rounded off with a smirk that she wore, plastered on her face. This eye-catching figure led the band of girls that trailed behind her, all of whom were clad in much more regular clothing, but still had their own appearances to count for as prominent traits- indeed, the bevy of girls had various hair colours and styles all their own, with differing builds, and the fact that these followers were also foreign, appearing to be Japanese, also caught the attention of many an onlooker.
This menagerie of women, wordlessly following the diminutive blonde, absorbed the glances of several spectators, predominantly from those who were male, and even though they returned none of the glances they received, many witnesses, both in the watching audience and in the procession, swore through hushed whispers that a handful of the foreign beauties flashed smiles in their direction. One of these witnesses was, as with Rhodes and the crazed German man, the youthful ticket master, who, allured when he first caught sight of the party, attempted a number of times to catch a glimpse of them again, glimpsing, at most, the heads of hair that poked through the crowd, until the legion of women finally came into full view.
The ticket master, in the presence of such a multitude of fair young women, suddenly found himself rather awestruck, something that the blonde leader of the group swiftly noticed, and said, or cooed, rather, to the youth in front of her:
"Is something the matter...?"
The ticket master was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by this question, and responded, stammering, "Uh, no! Nothing at all...I was, er...just a little dazed."
The blonde and those immediately behind her eyed the man curiously, and then giggled, collectively, attracting a few nervous glances from passing onlookers but not disturbing the youth in the slightest, for, despite his excuse, he was dazed even now as he tried to respond again, and he did so by gesturing, trying to usher the group inside. The girls followed through, walking onward, but the blonde, and the others in unison, stopped by the ticket master's side, and the small dress-clad girl beckoned the young man with a gesture to lean down to her height. Confused, the ticket master did so, and the blonde girl cooed in his ear again:
"Oh, just to let you know, I'm afraid that we don't have tickets", she said, in a somewhat mischievous tone, "so when you visit us, we won't have much to offer you..."
The ticket master reacted to this news, trying to adopt a stern look and tone of voice and attempting to reprimand the group, saying, "Wh-what? I can't permit that, you know!" He paused, briefly, searching for words, and said, "You might all be young, but not having tickets is still unacceptable...you can't really be here, and-"
"We're aware of that," the girl said, cooing again, "but I'd like to inform you that we'll offer you something far more valuable than a simple piece of paper..."
The ticket master, though still trying to act stern, couldn't help but, through boyish instincts, inquire as to what the dwarfish blonde meant by this, and so asked, hesitating briefly, "Er...what would that be?"
"Simply put," the blonde retorted, glancing quickly at the crowd of girls that stood behind her and motioning for two out of the swarm to come forward, a mature, green-eyed woman with, like her leader, a head of distinct long blond hair, and a red-headed girl, her hair styled in twin tails, hefting a notably large suitcase over her shoulder with one hand and both sporting grins, both of whom suddenly and abruptly wrapped themselves around the startled youngster with another motion from the doll-like leader, who, in the face of the furiously stuttering young man, continued, "would you like to spend some...quality time with us?"
In response, the ticket master could only carry on stammering, before he finally managed to force out a coherent reply: "Q...Quality time...? W-Wait, you mean...with all of you?" He was answered by a nod, and the minute girl said, as the two girls continued to latch onto him:
"After a deal, of course."
"D...Deal?"
He was answered by a second nod, and the girl said, explaining, "We'll give you our company...if, of course, you keep our boarding this ship a secret from your colleagues." Whispering in the youth's ear yet again, she said, "You can accomplish a task as simple as that, can't you?"
The young man paused for a moment, and then nodded, replying, convinced, "O-Of course!" He paused a second time, and then seemed to correct that statement with a follow-up that was anxiously forced out.
"Th-that is, of course, I'll do the best I can, but...well, you don't anyone else, as well, or, er, at least, try not to...this is potentially risky for me, and-"
The small blonde nodded once again, in understanding, saying, still smirking and still cooing, "We have a deal..." before beckoning the two girls to return to her side, and proceeding past him, her entourage in tow, the horde of females speaking in hushed murmurs afterwards.
And, in the aftermath of that encounter, and in the wake of the bizarre 'deal' that was made, the ticket master sighed- he had encountered yet another special person, group of people indeed, and he could, at this point in time, only wonder about what he had potentially gotten himself into.
And these people on the outside were far from the only special people fated to board the vessel, either.
Back from the dead after a good five months. Study-related work didn't help either. Personally, I see this chapter as something of a low point, the end, specifically, which may be rather plodding repetitive and contrived- but, I'll let the readers be the judge of that. Here's hoping the next one will be out notably sooner.