The First Bad Decision Joel Arnett was a man not well known, although those who knew him will never forget him. However, he was not always this way. You see, out of his entire life he has made some decisions. We all make decisions. However... few have ever been made like these. Some of the worst decisions that had ever been made in his life were made in the time Joel Arnett was becoming a man. However... one decision... one decision was the best choice he ever made in his entire life.



And it turned a boy, into a man.



Joel Arnett was not a special kid. A mere nineteen years old, he grew up in the small mining town of Sorditudo. Sorditudo was a lot different from Argenstrath. Argenstrath had some of the best forms of public transportation out there. Arnett could almost completely lose himself in the amazingness of the big city. This is where he was meant to be.



Joel’s eyes shot open. A glint in his eye showed he was well awake. Leaping from the large Vibranni powered trolley he dived into the crowd of Argenstrath. So many people. The streets were just as busy as the stations and shops. It didn't stop Arnett. Arnett nimbly leapt through the crowd, dodging people.



His first stop was a good friend of his. Well, not really a stop. Arnett needed to avoid the Yeti bakery so he took a long way round which brought him by his buddy’s fruit stand. Kasey’s Place was a very good Fruit Stand by many people’s standard, especially in a place like Antiford. However, it was often overlooked.



Kasey’s smile could be spotted from halfway down the street. His teeth stood out against his black as night skin. Kasey was always smiling, and that didn't change when his eyes landed on Arnett. Kasey was good like that; he always remembered you. A city of hundreds of people and he would always remember you.



“Well, I’ll be darned, Joel,” he yelled and waved.



“Morning, Kasey,” said Arnett, “And how is business.”



“Steady as usual,” said Kasey, “Now where on Orr are you off to at this time of day, Joel?”



“Why… you know. For company!”



“Oh, Joel… not again,” Kasey almost lost his smile as he shook his head, “Miss Badger’s Bunnies will throw you out one day when they've had enough of you, boy. You need to give them a rest sometime.”



“Oh, I highly doubt it,” bowed Joel, “With a face like mine? Come on.”



“Oh, Joel… can’t you find yourself a nice girl,” said Kasey, “With the right girl to put all that energy into you could-”



“Don’t have time, just need a quick pick up and lay down, mate,” said Arnett, “Catch you on my way back, Kasey.”



“Wasted talent, Joel,” yelled Kasey, “You could get out of this city, you know, if you tried!”



“Just practicing,” Yelled Joel, “Besides, I got out of one small town. Why would I ever leave this one!”



Joel took off once more into the crowd, and headed towards his true destination. Argenstrath Medical College, the premier medical school in all of Antiford. Medical students from all around the country ensured that they tried to get into this school to ensure they would become the greatest doctors in Orr. Unfortunately, this gave birth to two needs in Argenstrath. Money, and Companionship when away from home.



Thus the most successful brothel in all of Argenstrath was born. The locals didn't like to admit it existed, but all flocks of society, from Pirates and Bandits to Students and Aristocrats found their way through its doors.



The “Badger’s Den” was run by a woman known only as “Momma Badger”. The sign out front guaranteed a “refreshing dip into fresh water”. The “Badger’s Bunnies” were females, sometimes the very students you might go to class with, that insured you were refreshed after your visits.



Joel was eagerly making his way through the city towards this refreshing den. In the distance he could see the towering pillars and large stone walls of the Hospital. The giant statues of the Paorrian Sloth marked it as a medical school, and they held out their healing claws to the sick.



Many well-dressed students and teachers and doctors rushed around the streets to get in and out of the large building. Carts and carriages painted white demanded a path through the crowd as they tried to enter the large garage openings in the front of the building for them. One of them gave up on the crowd and pulled aside, almost hitting Arnett.



The doors opened wide and the doctors inside leapt out, demanding a path through the crowd. They dragged out a stretcher and carried it on their shoulders. On the stretcher an elderly man lay quiet. He seemed to be hurt, and his brown suit looked worn and beaten. A wool coat was folded up next to him and a strange brown hat rested on his chest. After he was taken through the crowd two men leapt out and turned to Arnett, one of the men stepping closer.



“Who are you looking at?”



“Enough, come on,” said the other man, helping a woman out of the back of the ambulance.



Then the three disappeared into the crowd after the stretcher.



Arnett didn't need to gawk at them, however, and he ignored the statues’ healing gaze as he hurried past the crowds and around the back of the massive structure. Along the side street, Arnett spotted the doors to the Den. Arnett wasted no time ducking inside, running his fingers through his short brown hair.

Inside, the atmosphere was vastly different. Through the door was an immediate small staircase leading down to a vast structure. The lighting was dimmed and his eyes had to adjust. Thanks to his many trips here his eyes had learned to adjust faster than a normal visitor.



A large, beast of a woman waited down by a desk next to one of the most beautiful girls in the city, her daughter. They gave blank stares to Arnett as he made his way down the stairs.



“Arnett, you bastard,” scowled the woman, her shotgun’s safety switching on as he was deemed not a threat, “Weren't you just here?”



“You complaining, Badge?” asked Arnett, his greatest smile being put on for her, “I’m paying for your retirement, aren’t I?”



“What you looking for now?” asked the large woman, placing her gun down on the table, “How about some Native pleasure this day? I have some nice Demons who’d be your angels. How about you conquer some Prush lands this day? I’ve got a special.”



“Naw, actually… I was thinking Linda,” asked Arnett.



“Hip deep in business.”



“Laura?” asked Arnett.



“Tied up…”



“Any ‘L’s?”



“Why don’t I surprise you?” said the woman.



“Want to truly surprise me? How about Irene?”



The woman’s face changed, and she stole a glance to her daughter, who was showing no emotional reaction to being talked about. The woman, however, her face turned into a glare and her hand went for her shotgun again. Arnett’s hands raised, his smile growing.



“Ha, ha,” said Arnett, “Surprise me. Someone small.”



The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she pulled out a room key and tossed it to him. Arnett caught the key, and nodded to the woman.



Once again Arnett’s eyes adjusted as he stepped out of the den. He smiled at the reduced crowds. The morning rush was dying down and everyone was either home, at work, or in classes. The streets were still what he would consider busy, but he could manage through it without much fear of running into too many people.



A beautiful lass carrying an armful of books walked past Arnett, and he smiled, bowing low for her. She hurried away, shooting him a worried look. Arnett shot out an over-pouted lip before allowing his usual smile to spread across his face. Running his fingers through his unkempt hair, he gazed around the street, unsure of what to do with himself.



A commotion sounded and broke through the crowd, and Arnett could see a crowd backing away from the front of Argenstrath Medical College. Arnett decided to check it out. Keeping by a public trashcan, he looked over the crowd that was pushing back from the scene unfolding.



An older gentlemen was in the center of it all. With a pair of handcuffs on his right hand, the other cuff dangling at his side, and a large metal poll in his hands, he swung at a group of men and women forming around him. He had on a long brown overcoat and he wore a strange hat on his head, the large brim tucked over his eyes. His eyes were dark under the brim, but Arnett could see them shift from person to person. The only other distinguished feature was a large mustache, salt and peppered with age.



One of the men surrounding him yelled out at him, and rushed forward. The old man swung the bar with such skill, side-stepping the man and slamming the bar into his back. Another man rushing from behind him met a similar face as the old man turned around and slammed the bar into his face, causing his head and neck to fly back as his feet shot up from underneath him.



Arnett gawked in amazement. Maybe this man wasn’t as old as he thought. He was taking on at least four or five other men. One of which Arnett recognized. Arnett snapped his fingers and pointed as he remembered the strange man who yelled at him in the crowd earlier, from the medical cart. Then Arnett looked at the old man. He was on the stretcher… hurt. Damn, thought Arnett, he could fight after that?



The woman from the cart was making her way down the stairs, her head looked bruised but not bad.



“Mr. Flint, please!” she yelled, “Al, don’t you dare hurt him! Step away! Flint, please! Listen to reason, sir!”



The man who Arnett recognized pulled a pistol on the old man, and he yelled out, “Drop it, man, or I’ll drop you!”



Arnett didn't know why…



Maybe he thought it was an unfair fight. Arnett liked a good fight. Maybe his recent display of testosterone fueled him with a lust to prove himself. Maybe fate knew better. Maybe Arnett knew…



Arnett barely had time to think as he brought the trashcan down on the man with the pistol, and the trashcan broke under the force. The man dropped his pistol, and slumped to the street. The pistol skidded across the ground, to the old man’s feet. Immediately the other guards, or whomever, rushed forward at once. The old man ducked down for the pistol.



One of the men came at Arnett, who dodged his punch and slammed his knee into the man’s stomach. Arnett used the adrenaline and ran forward to sink his foot into the side of another man.



A shot rang out. Arnett’s heart seemed to stop. He raised his hands and stepped back. The other men did the same, and the woman was screaming something inaudible. The old man, however, rose from the ground and pointed the pistol at the group. Rushing forward, he pushed Arnett forward.



“Move, boy, before they draw on us,” The man spat.



Arnett was about to object but the man gave him another shove. Arnett ran forward, further into the street. Arnett could hear the men shouting orders, and the old man fired another shot into the air. Arnett found himself running down the street, the old man running beside him.



“Here” Arnett yelled, spotting one of the city’s trolleys.



The trolley man saw the two running towards them, and he shook his head. The old man pointed the pistol at him. The Vibranni and the man dived out the side of the Trolly. Arnett was running alongside the trolley and leapt up to the door, opening it. Just as soon as he had the older man leapt inside, and dragged Arnett inside after him.



Shutting the door, Arnett was suddenly thrust into reality, and threw up his hands.



“Woah, old man, I’m not comfortable with this. That was an unfair fight and all but I don’t know who you are.”



“Shut up,” ordered the old man, “I need to get home. They’ll be after my family next.”



“That’s cool,” said Arnett, shrugging, “I just think you got yourself a nice trolley now… and a gun, and I don’t see why you’d need a man like me.”



“I don’t, you got yourself into this,” said the man, cranking up the Trolley’s throttle and allowing it to jump forward on the tracks.



“Yeah, well. I’m not too interested in dying or anything,” said Arnett, who could feel the heat under his shirt as his heart raced, “You don’t want me to get… angry… or anything. I’m the son… or the… police chief… of Argenstrath! And… there will be hell to pay!”



“Oh, good, a cop’s kid,” said the old man, “When we’re out of this I’ll need you to help me. Wait… where are we?”



Just then a back mirror got shot out, and the passengers in the Trolley screamed, several jumping off the trolley. The old man looked back out the window and saw two steam-biked speeding down the street after them.



“What? Come… on!” said the old man, “Look, kid, these guys don’t care about police. I need to get home. These guys are bad news. I’ll need the help of the police to get back to Grindton and get to my family.”



“Grindton? Never heard of it,” said Arnett, looking back out the window.



The steam-bike riders were gaining on them, and they had rifles this time. Arnett’s eyes widened.



“They have big guns, governor,” said Arnett, “Who the hell are these guys?”



“Bad guys, they tried to kill me not too long ago,” said the man, “Looks like they want me alive. They would have blown more holes in this little Trolley if they didn't. Get down, boy.”



The steam bikes could be heard getting closer when Arnett followed instruction and ducked down. The old man threw back his overcoat and stuffed the pistol in a holster strapped to his leg. The old man picked up a crowbar leaning next to the controls and ducked down by the door.



In a few seconds, the door to the drivers place opened, and one of the steambike passengers jumped in. Before they could raise their rifle, the old man hit them with the metal crowbar and tossed them out of the trolley. On Arnett’s side, the window burst as the other passenger of the steambike broke through the window and lunged at the old man.



The man stepped aside, throwing a punch directly in the man’s face. The man grasped at his nose, stunned. The man used this time to swing the crowbar, knocking him back onto the floor.



“Who the hell are you?” asked Arnett, “You’re no old man I know.”



“I’m not old yet,” said the man, “And the name’s Lieutenant to you. Lieutenant Flint. Now, we got to get out of here!”



The man, now known as the Lieutenant, walked up to the side Arnett was pressed against, and looked out of the window. The other steambike was pulling up alongside the trolley again. Lieutenant aimed the pistol out the window at him, causing him to break quickly and pull to the other side of the trolley, dipping out of sight of his gun. Flint smiled, holstering the pistol once more.



“Jump,” he demanded, “Quick.”



“What? Out of a moving Trolley, are you mad?” asked Arnett.



“I don’t have time for this shit anymore,” said Flint.



He knelt over and grabbed Arnett by the collar. Arnett tried to fight, but in a few seconds he was tossed from the Trolley. Falling towards the earth, Arnett could see that the trolley must have just been on one of the bridges of Argenstrath. Arnett could see him falling, the trolley getting farther away. Right behind him, the old man, Flint, leapt out of the window, and glided through the air behind Arnett.



Arnett had the wind knocked out of him as he landed, hard, into something. A few seconds later he could hear the Lieutenant landing somewhere further back. After he gasped for breathe, Arnett rolled over and got up. He could see they were on some sort of train car, and he had fallen into a mass amount of sand.



“Sand?” asked the old man, “The hell you need a train car full of sand for?”



“Huge sandstorm a few days ago,” said Arnett, still gasping for air, “They’re removing sand from the city still.”



The Lieutenant began to cough more heavily, his body shaking from the fits. He stood and looked around.



“I’m a bit farther from home then I thought,” said he, “Where am I? You said something?”



“Argenstrath,” said Arnett, shaking his head, “Man, how do you not know that? Everyone’s heard of us.”



“Not me,” said the Lieutenant, “What country am I in?”



“Wow, you really are lost,” said Arnett, trying to stand, “Hey, that’s a nice hat. Where’d you learn all those… moves.”



“Not my first rodeo,” said the Lieutenant, fighting another coughing fit, “Man, I don’t feel so good.”



“Yeah, that tends to happen with age,” said Arnett, “You begin forgetting things… you get older… you can’t do a bunch of cool shit without SOME sort of side effect.”



“Shut up, kid,” warned the Lieutenant, “I just need to get back to Grindton.”



“Now you’ve got me confused,” said Arnett, “So. Cool hat, again.”



“Yeah, it’s a Fedora.”



“Whatever… Where’s Grindton, ‘Lieutenant’?”



“Outside of Chicago.”



“Chicago? Where’s Chicago?” asked Arnett.



The man threw up his arms, “Illinois, the United States of America. Ever heard of that?”



“United States of America?” asked Arnett, his eyebrows rising, “Is that so…”



“Oh… don’t even!” the man began to pace, looking around him, “There’s no way a big city like this hasn’t heard of the United States. Come on what country is this?”



“Antiford.”



“Damn…” spat the man, putting his hands on his hips, “I am a long way from home. Where the hell his Antiford?”



“Araz… ok, man, now YOU are worrying me.”



A noise cause the Lieutenant to flinch. Arnett turned around, but he couldn’t hear anything over the coughing fit the Lieutenant broke into once more.



“You going to make it?”



“Told you I didn’t feel well,” said the man, walking closer to Arnett and pointing towards and alley, “Come on, we got to get out of here before they turn back. We caused enough trouble today.”



“Nuh-uh… you did,” said Arnett, following the man off the car, “This is all you… crazy old man… from the Ungaurded States.”



“United States of America!”



“Whatever!”



They leapt down from the train car, and they disappeared back into the city.

Joel Arnett was a man not well known, although those who knew him will never forget him. However, he was not always this way. You see, out of his entire life he has made some decisions. We all make decisions. However... few have ever been made like these. Some of the worst decisions that had ever been made in his life were made in the time Joel Arnett was becoming a man. However... one decision... one decision was the best choice he ever made in his entire life.And it turned a boy, into a man.

The Second Bad Decision Arnett was beginning to second guess himself, but the old man was beginning to entrance him. Arnett loved a good story, and he couldn’t help but follow him as he slumped through the city.



“What’s your name, kid?” asked the Lieutenant.



“I’m not a ‘kid’,” shot back Arnett, causing a smirk from the old man, “And my name’s Joel Arnett.”



“You live here, ‘Joel’?” he asked, looking cautiously around a corner.



“Not really,” answered Arnett, “Look, Mr. Lieutenant.”



“Jesum. Just Lieutenant,” said the man, “The Mister is… for… something else. Makes no sense. Just… Lieutenant Flint. Or just Flint.”



“Lieutenant Flint, huh? In the Military? Is this all some kind of cover up?”



“No. I’m… I’m a Lieutenant of a Landship. I’m kind of a freelancer. The Lieutenant is… nevermind!”



“Well, ‘Flint’,” said Arnett, “Who were those guys?”



“Unsure. All I know is they broke into my house and beat me up. Left me for dead… threw me in the lake.”



“A damn lake? Where did you say you were from?” asked Arnett, “Those guys must be bad ass. Drowning someone like that…”



“I didn't drown, kid,” said Flint.



“That’s true,” said Arnett, “So how’d you end up here?”



“I woke up and they were questioning me. I don’t know what they want, but they’re not getting it.”



“Well, what do you remember?”



“I don’t know, kid, I was pretty beat up.”



“I’m NOT a kid, old man,” said Arnett.



Flint turned around and got into Arnett’s face, “Listen, when you reach my age everyone’s a ‘kid’, got it? You’re young. Stupid. Childish.”



“You don’t know me!” spat Arnett, upset at being talked down to.



“I don’t have to,” said Flint, his eyes looking over Arnett, “Messy hair, no care for how you come across, untidy clothes. What’s your job?”



“Rub off, Flint!”



“Nice, so unemployed,” chuckled Flint, “Oh, and you took on a crowd of strangers to help a crazy old man with a metal stick. Nice move. Good life decisions… Those’ll see you grow up.”



“A simple ‘Thank you’ would have been great. But you know, don’t even worry about it, mate.”



“It was foolish,” said Flint.



“So, back to YOU, gramps,” said Arnett, “What do you remember? You got pushed in a lake and… what?”



Flint gave Arnett a stern look, before rolling his eyes, “I was thrown into the River. Feet and legs bound. All I remember is struggling against them… until… I don’t know. I was in a river or something. Then I fell. Some sort of waterfall. I awoke in a forest.”



“Waterfall in the forest?”



“You asked,” said Flint, “My bonds broke and I escaped into the woods. I don’t remember much… just this… creepy dread or something. Then those thugs came and… took me off what I figured was an island.”



“An Island? Your story is getting weirder and weirder.”



“Good thing I didn't tell you about the monster, then,” said Flint.



Arnett’s eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks.



“What did you do?” asked Arnett, then he shook his head, “Said… say. What did you just say? An Island with monsters?”



After a coughing fit, Flint pointed at Arnett, “There you go, kid. I’m not crazy? There’s an island with monsters? That’s probably heading back where I am. That thing is my direction. Where is that?”



“No… that island… that island is bad news,” said Arnett, “There’s no way… you… you can’t be. You pulling my leg, old man.”



“Look, if you or this damn city doesn’t start making sense, I’m going to dangle you from a bridge!”



“Too late, old man,” smiled Arnett, “You already threw me off one today. Dangling isn’t really a worry of mine.”



Flint threw back his overcoat and showed his pistol, “I’m not playing.”



“Are you hot?” asked Arnett, “Are you warm in that coat? Should be. It’s a damn scorcher today.”



Flint sighed, rolling his eyes, which brought him into another coughing fit, “You bastard. Didn’t your parents ever beat into you some manners?”



“Maybe,” said Arnett, “Maybe I’ll ask them next time I’m back in that shabby old town!”



“You better,” said Flint, pointing at Arnett, “Or one day you’ll wake up and-”



Flint stopped, suddenly, and stared at his hand. Arnett looked too, then he stepped closer and almost reached out for it. Flint opened his hand up, and looked at the back of his hand. His hand had a large red rash upon it. At the corner of the rash it was beginning to bleed.



Arnett found a cloth in a nearby trash can and after sneering at it, he tied it around Flint’s hand, who did nothing to stop him.



“I don’t remember cutting it… or anything that bad,” said Flint.



“No, I bet you didn’t, old man,” said Arnett, “Despite all those moves back there. I think your sick, old man.”



“Sick? I believe it,” asked Flint.



“You are… from the island, aren’t you?” said Arnett, “I always thought it was some sort of ghost story or something. “



“What do you mean?” asked Flint.



Arnett thought a moment, before looking up at Flint again, “Could you do that fighting moves stuff if it came to it again?”



“Yeah, sure,” asked Flint, “Why?”



“We have to find someone smarter then me,” said Arnett, “Someone who can explain a lot. Someone I trust. Come on!”



“Well, smarter then you isn’t hard, kid,” yelled Flint, taking off after Arnett into the public street, “You brought a trash-can to a gun fight today, remember?”

Arnett had to do some digging. Sending a wire back to his home town to one of his professors sent him to a contact of his in the Capitol City of Gearford. After the wire returned from that contact, Arnett had the name of someone who could help who was conveniently in the City of Argenstrath. It took some work, but they were eventually able to track him down.



Flint proved a very helpful old man, walking and demanding information with an air of superiority that Arnett found confusing. He was polite, for the most part (he did practically mug a post man for an exact door number) and he was very rude in the sense of it was difficult for him to take 'No' for an answer to his demands. However, people generally seemed to like him and were more helpful then they would be to Arnett.



In a matter of hours, late into the evening, Arnett found himself ducked behind a bench outside of an apartment building looking at the landlord's house. The Contact in Gearford assured Arnett that this man was once a scholar of some renown, and a teacher at many universities. He had studied the island with other scholars years back and claimed to know a few things of the strange island. Arnett decided that if anyone could help them, and decide who Flint was, it was probably this man.



"If not," Arnett had said, "He will definitely know who could help us."



"How on earth does nobody else know about this damn island?" asked Flint.



"Don't you mean Orr?" Arnett had said, before saying, "Anyways, it's a... freaky Island. Rumor used to be it moved... and there were monsters and creatures roaming the island!"



"Dark ages shit," spat Flint.



"Maybe. But the Prush Confederacy has a ban on all travel to the Island and it is generally frowned upon by everyone else. The place is apparently really freaky. Sends out bad waves or something."



"I'd agree with that," said Flint, shaking his head.



Now the two were outside this land lord's door where he was said to live. Flint looked up and down the street, and pulled down the brim of his hat. He clasped his hand on Arnett's shoulder before standing up and trotting across the street. Arnett nervously looked around the street while Flint examined the door.



"You sure about this, kid?" asked Flint.



"That or the police," said Arnett, "But the police won't be helpful. Not if what I think is true. And if what you say is true then odds are these people might own the police."



"Didn't think about that," said Flint, "But that is a true assessment."



Flint reached the door first, and he pulled out the pistol he had stolen. Arnett gasped and stepped back. Flint gave him a weird look.



"What are you going to do?" asked Arnett.



"Talk to him," said Flint, gesturing to the gun with a nod, "And taking precautions."



"Why don't we try a friendly 'hello' first," said Arnett, moving around Flint to stand in front of the door, "Why don't you put that away before you got the bobbies down here, yeah?"



Flint rolled his eyes, but a sudden coughing fit forced him to holster the pistol and turn away, coughing into his arm. Arnett smiled, and knocked on the door. Flint regained his composure and stood next to Arnett.



A shadow appeared behind the door, and after several locks moved, it opened a crack. Standing at the door was an older man. He was balding with white hair. He wore elegant robes that were out of place among regular society. He was cleaning a pair of spectacles as he greeted the two, and then he placed them on his narrow nose.



He gasped, "You!"



"Greetings, sir," said Arnett, his voice sounding a little forced, "I was told through a long list of people that you can help us."



"You?" asked Flint, his eyebrows narrowing.



The old man cut them off however, "Help you? What sort of help? I'm just an old man. I'm sure two gentlemen like yourselves can solve your own problems!"



"I have reason to believe that you know about the Island," said Arnett, then he leaned closer, "I think he's from there. He's a... 'visitor'."



The old man looked Flint up and down, and then pointed, "The island, eh? How do you feel?"



"Look, man, I don't exactly have time for this," struggled Flint against a coughing fit.



"Are you sick?" demanded the old man, "Let me see your hand, now! Show me!"



Flint was obviously taken back by his stubbornness. Even so, the old man reached out and grasped Flint's hand and turned it over. Flint pursed his lips and Arnett cringed. The rash had become a nasty lesion. The old man grasped the sleeve of Flint's coat and pushed it back. The same lesions and rashes could be spotted down his arm.



"What the hell," said Flint.



"You..." said the old man under his breath, looking up and down the arm, then his eyes widened and shot up to Flint's, "Quick, both of you. Inside. We have a great deal to discuss."



The three were rushed into the house and the door shut and locked behind them. Arnett looked around the room. Loads of books lined the walls and in some areas photos and newspapers were stacked in heaps along the floor. The old man shuffled past them and led them through the small rooms. Towards the back was a kitchen-like area with a few chairs.



The old man immediately ran to the kitchen and immediately began to pour cups of liquid.



"Oh, water. That'd be great," smiled Arnett.



"Stupid boy, this is Anti-Juice."



"Never heard of it," said Joel, making Flint's eyebrow raise.



"Cactus juice, Chanka juice, and Caloric Oil," said the old man, smiling to himself, "The older one needs these."



"Chanka... juice?" Arnett squirmed in his skin, "I won't lie, I didn't know they made juice."



"Try not to think about it," said the old man, handing a cup to each of his visitors, "So, you. You I am interested in. Tell me your name and origin, stranger."



Flint went to sip out of the cup, and the look on his face showed immediate regret. Arnett smiled awkwardly and sniffed the contents of his cup.



"Well," started Flint, looking down at the cup, "I don't know what you want to know exactly. My name is Lieutenant Nathaniel Flint. I am the commander of the Landship Scorpios."



"Where are you from," interrupted the old man, "Tell me everything. names, time, etc."



Flint sat up straighter, "I've been to a lot of places. However, what feels like ages ago, I was in a town outside of Chicago, Illinois. Located in the United States of America."



"What world?" asked the old man.



"What?"



"What WORLD, man. Where is the United States Located?"



"Geez... this world," said Flint, "North America. The Earth!"



"Not necessarily," smiled the old man, "Earth... my friend... you are on Orr."



"Bull spit," said Flint, "How can a man leave Earth? What kind of trick is this?"



"Stop, Lieutenant," said the old man, "You do not understand the situation. Tell me, exactly, what happened the last few days. When did things start being... different?"



"Well... I don't know exactly," said Flint, "I was... well I was home. And these men attacked me in my house. Beat me up and bound me. They took me out to the lake, asked me a bunch of questions. They threw me into the lake. After a little while... I was in a river... and my bounds broke. Then there was a water fall and I was flying through the air."



Flint took a swig of the contents in his cup this time, and clenched his teeth as he swallowed.



"So, do you know who these men were?"



"I don't know. However I've made quite a name for myself back home. Maybe I made an enemy who grew the balls to come at me."



"So, let's continue your story," said the old man, "You said you fell out of a waterfall from a river. Did you see... say... a bright light? Maybe blue? Maybe orange in color?"



"Couldn't say," said Flint, "I was in a rough state. I hit the ground hard, too. It was weird. Like... the Waterfall just disappeared. I know it sounds crazy but-"



"Nothing sounds crazy," said the old man, "Now I need facts. I need your story. What happened, man? What did you see? Silver Pools?"



"Well, I got up... and it was night time... like it was when I was thrown in. I looked around, and I noticed there were a lot of trees. And it was cold. Really chilly. I could almost feel it in my bones. I could almost feel like..."



"You didn't belong," said the old man.



Flint nodded his head, his eyes fixing on the old man, "I wandered around in the woods or swamp for a little while and saw things in the mist. They didn't exactly give me weapons when I was tossed into the drink so I grabbed a tree branch and used it as a weapon. I swatted away a few creatures I have never seen before... large... monstrous creatures. I ran... and then... and then that airship picked me up."



"Tell me about that," said the old man.



"Nothing much. Just those greasers pinned me to the ground and threw me aboard. They knocked me out and I awoke in that hospital, being questioned. I figured it was the same guys, and they wouldn't explain what was going on."



"So you escaped and shot up half of Argenstrath?"



Flint's eyes narrowed and his hand itched to reach for his pistol. The old man noticed the change and raised his hands.



"News travels fast in the city, Lieutenant. Besides, sounds like you already made up your mind on those thugs," said the old man, "Now, you, what the hell are you doing involved in all this?"



"He's a dumb kid and he got in over his head," said Flint, suppressing another cough.



"Not true," said Arnett, "Maybe I'm just a fan of a fair fight. One of those goons drew a pistol and the old man was outnumbered."



"I think that the Lieutenant is right," said the old man, "You are in over your head. But it does not matter! What matters is you, Lieutenant. And what you are doing here. How long have you been in Orr."



"I have no idea," said Flint, "I don't even believe that 'Orr' is another place. It doesn't even exist on a map!"



"Your map, perhaps," said the old man, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, "No... but here, it is our world. Lieutenant Flint, I think it is time to open your eyes."



The old man cleared his throat, and paused while Flint entered another coughing fit. Flint grabbed the cup eagerly and downed the rest of the juice, wincing as he swallowed.



"Lieutenant Flint, of Earth," said the old man at last, "You are dying. You are suffering from a disease described only as the 'Traveler's Disease'. If we can not get you home in a suitable matter of time... you will die. Do you understand that which I have told you?"



Flint paused a moment, "No, not at all. What do you mean, 'sick'? Why will getting me home help? I don't understand."



"Ok, let me explain," said the man, looking towards the ceiling, "Here, on Orr... there is a place no one goes. It is an island. We have come to call this... Well Island. Well Island is a dark and mysterious place. It is where we find a phenomenon that we have come to call 'Wells'. These 'Wells' act as a doorway... a doorway into another... existence. Another world. There are thousands of them. More then we can count. So many worlds... so many opportunities."



"Wait, wait," stopped Flint, "Wells? Worlds? Are you saying I have somehow been taken off Earth itself?"



"Most likely," said the old man, "But you must understand, our understanding of it is incredibly small. However, we do understand that these Wells act as doorways. People, animals, objects, things... they all come through the wells... and they can all disappear into them."



"Everyone who goes there is never seen again...." mumbled Arnett.



"Children's stories," spat the old man, "An exaggeration. Well, now a days. But it does hold some truths. Many who go to the island and who do not know might find themselves in one of these Wells. Sometimes they never find their way back out, and thus are lost. Mostly, though, people are spooked away. Things coming from the wells are often creatures and beasts we do not understand, or objects of great power. These either kill or scare away anyone who doesn't understand the wells."



"I don't understand," said Flint, "Monsters and doorways and worlds... how do you know all this? Actually, wait... why do we care? Didn't you say something about dying?"



"Lieutenant, patience," said the old man, "How do I know this? Because I am a seeker of knowledge. I... appreciate the things unknown to others. I know a very fine group of folks who do as well. That, and I have studied these wells in my youth, or as much as one could study them. I also know people who study them... and some who use them."



"Use the doors?" Arnett had a smile growing to his face, "You mean peaking into other worlds? Other realities?"



"Some are explorers... many do not return. However, a very nasty group of people have taken to using these wells for gain. These 'Well Pirates' are a nasty sort. They seek to profit from these worlds... and they have a nasty knack of surviving their adventures. However, I assume it is all for not. The riches never last."



"What do you mean?" asked Arnett, now sitting forward in his seat.



“Well, Lieutenant, sadly, anything that enters our world is doomed,” continued the old man, “Gold turns to ash, water disappears, and people and creatures get sick. They will, eventually, die.”



“Why is that?” asked Flint.



“We don’t know,” said the old man, “The Well Sickness does not have prejudice. All who travel through the Wells and into our world will die.”



“What about these Well Pirates?” said Arnett, “What sort of treasures can they plan to keep if everything they bring back dies?”



“Knowledge, mostly,” said the old man, “But if they are quick enough they can trick merchants and guardsmen with the riches before it turns to dirt. Technology could be brought over but they are made of material that will not survive in our world.”



“But can be recreated,” said Flint.



“Indeed,” said the old man, “Or they can hide their treasure in the other worlds in order to retrieve them later for comfort.”



“So why aren’t they dying?” said Flint.



“Well, some of them do,” said the old man, “But it appears as long as you return to your own world, you will get better or avoid the Visitor Sickness all together.”



“So, I’m going to die,” said Flint, closing his eyes, “Great.”



“Wait a minute, you don’t have to,” said Arnett, pointing at the old man, “You said that all we have to do is get him back to his world and he should be alright, right?



“I would hope so,” said the old man, “However, we don’t know what he’ll be going back to. Sounds like he wasn’t the most popular back in his world.”



“I have to get back to my family,” said Flint, “Point me to that island and I’ll go right now!”



“You’ll need a strong pair of legs to get there in time,” said the old man, “Or a airship. I could hook you up with somebody if you would like.”



“You’ve done enough,” said Flint, rising, “Besides, I don’t trust airships.”



“What about a good steambike?” asked Arnett, “One of those could take you across Araz and back.”



“I wish I had my landship,” said Flint, who began coughing into a great fit.



“What’s so great about this stinkin’ landship, anyway?” asked Arnett, “Landships are stupid and slow. There’s no way you could argue a good airship.”



“Mine, could,” said Flint, “The Scorpios is the best landship. That baby is the work of years of minds and good deeds working together. That ship could shoot down ANY airship for miles.”



“Oh yeah? Good design. Think you could build it again?” said Arnett.



“Why?”



“Well, if you only want this precious ship of yours and you think we can rebuild it then maybe that would take the cake,” said Arnett, “I used to work for a junk shop and fix up old vehicles. I think if you are sure, I could hook you up with a bloody landship.”



“A Bit risky, don’t you think?” said the old man, “Why don’t you just allow me to hook you up. I know a man, a Commodore of all things, he owes me a favor or two… and I owe him a few things. He’ll see to it you get to Well Island, I promise. He’s there often enough.”



“You sure you want to do this, kid?” said Flint, “There are people after us. There are Creatures on that island. We’re gonna need a real mechanized war machine. With cannons, and guns.”



“Lucky us, I know a a place with a few loose cannons.”



“Please, you can’t hope to build this… land ship in enough time. We really should consider getting an airship. You don’t have to be so mistrusting, Lieutenant. What if you die?”



“Everybody dies, sir,” said Flint, tipping his hat, “I prefer it to be in my own doing.”



A knock on the front door made everybody jump. The old man leapt from his spot and left the makeshift room.



“Stay calm, boys. The Bobbies are the least of your worries,” said the old man, “For all you know, it could be the best help you’ll get all day!”



The old man disappeared from sight, and his last remarks caused Flint to stand up, his eyes watering as he held back another cough.



“So what do you think?” said Arnett, “A walker? A Rail Engine? Something I’ve never seen?”



“The Scorpios?” said Flint, peering around a bookshelf.



“Yeah.”



“A Walker,” said Flint, his eyes getting larger and he turned.



Flint walked into the Kitchen, and he looked around, spotting a window.



“Good, there’s a great deal of ‘Kovy’ rusting in a pile in this place,” said Arnett, smiling, “Oh, this could be SO COOL! Can we write it down?”



“Later,” said Flint, he opened the window and peered about, before smiling and climbing onto the counter.



“What are you doing,” asked Arnett.



“If you stay, I cannot promise what will happen,” said Flint, “You’re not with me, and you can still smooth talk your way out. However, if you climb out this window with me, there’s no turning back. You’re with me, got it.”



“Are you climbing out of the window?” asked Arnett, his smiling disappearing.



“I’m going home,” said Flint, “I have a family, friends, a ship. If people are in my way, people will die. This is going to be dangerous. And if I fail… I will die.”



Arnett peeked around the corner of the bookcase. The old man stood in the first room, talking hushly to two large men in suits, pointing towards the room. He ducked behind the case and gasped.



“Those guys are here, how did they know?”



“That’s the deal, kid,” said Flint, now hanging out of the window, “Make your choice, kid.”



“I’m not a kid,” said Arnett, “It’s Joel… or Arnett… or BOTH! Never kid!”



Flint pushed off, and he disappeared from the window. Arnett gazed behind the bookshelf once more. The men were carrying guns like he had never seen. Even the old man was wielding a gun, and ushering in another two men.



Arnett ducked back behind the book case and thought it over once. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Rushing to the window, he leapt onto the counter and swung into the window after Flint. Arnett was beginning to second guess himself, but the old man was beginning to entrance him. Arnett loved a good story, and he couldn’t help but follow him as he slumped through the city.“What’s your name, kid?” asked the Lieutenant.“I’m not a ‘kid’,” shot back Arnett, causing a smirk from the old man, “And my name’s Joel Arnett.”“You live here, ‘Joel’?” he asked, looking cautiously around a corner.“Not really,” answered Arnett, “Look, Mr. Lieutenant.”“Jesum. Just Lieutenant,” said the man, “The Mister is… for… something else. Makes no sense. Just… Lieutenant Flint. Or just Flint.”“Lieutenant Flint, huh? In the Military? Is this all some kind of cover up?”“No. I’m… I’m a Lieutenant of a Landship. I’m kind of a freelancer. The Lieutenant is… nevermind!”“Well, ‘Flint’,” said Arnett, “Who were those guys?”“Unsure. All I know is they broke into my house and beat me up. Left me for dead… threw me in the lake.”“A damn lake? Where did you say you were from?” asked Arnett, “Those guys must be bad ass. Drowning someone like that…”“I didn't drown, kid,” said Flint.“That’s true,” said Arnett, “So how’d you end up here?”“I woke up and they were questioning me. I don’t know what they want, but they’re not getting it.”“Well, what do you remember?”“I don’t know, kid, I was pretty beat up.”“I’m NOT a kid, old man,” said Arnett.Flint turned around and got into Arnett’s face, “Listen, when you reach my age everyone’s a ‘kid’, got it? You’re young. Stupid. Childish.”“You don’t know me!” spat Arnett, upset at being talked down to.“I don’t have to,” said Flint, his eyes looking over Arnett, “Messy hair, no care for how you come across, untidy clothes. What’s your job?”“Rub off, Flint!”“Nice, so unemployed,” chuckled Flint, “Oh, and you took on a crowd of strangers to help a crazy old man with a metal stick. Nice move. Good life decisions… Those’ll see you grow up.”“A simple ‘Thank you’ would have been great. But you know, don’t even worry about it, mate.”“It was foolish,” said Flint.“So, back to YOU, gramps,” said Arnett, “What do you remember? You got pushed in a lake and… what?”Flint gave Arnett a stern look, before rolling his eyes, “I was thrown into the River. Feet and legs bound. All I remember is struggling against them… until… I don’t know. I was in a river or something. Then I fell. Some sort of waterfall. I awoke in a forest.”“Waterfall in the forest?”“You asked,” said Flint, “My bonds broke and I escaped into the woods. I don’t remember much… just this… creepy dread or something. Then those thugs came and… took me off what I figured was an island.”“An Island? Your story is getting weirder and weirder.”“Good thing I didn't tell you about the monster, then,” said Flint.Arnett’s eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks.“What did you do?” asked Arnett, then he shook his head, “Said… say. What did you just say? An Island with monsters?”After a coughing fit, Flint pointed at Arnett, “There you go, kid. I’m not crazy? There’s an island with monsters? That’s probably heading back where I am. That thing is my direction. Where is that?”“No… that island… that island is bad news,” said Arnett, “There’s no way… you… you can’t be. You pulling my leg, old man.”“Look, if you or this damn city doesn’t start making sense, I’m going to dangle you from a bridge!”“Too late, old man,” smiled Arnett, “You already threw me off one today. Dangling isn’t really a worry of mine.”Flint threw back his overcoat and showed his pistol, “I’m not playing.”“Are you hot?” asked Arnett, “Are you warm in that coat? Should be. It’s a damn scorcher today.”Flint sighed, rolling his eyes, which brought him into another coughing fit, “You bastard. Didn’t your parents ever beat into you some manners?”“Maybe,” said Arnett, “Maybe I’ll ask them next time I’m back in that shabby old town!”“You better,” said Flint, pointing at Arnett, “Or one day you’ll wake up and-”Flint stopped, suddenly, and stared at his hand. Arnett looked too, then he stepped closer and almost reached out for it. Flint opened his hand up, and looked at the back of his hand. His hand had a large red rash upon it. At the corner of the rash it was beginning to bleed.Arnett found a cloth in a nearby trash can and after sneering at it, he tied it around Flint’s hand, who did nothing to stop him.“I don’t remember cutting it… or anything that bad,” said Flint.“No, I bet you didn’t, old man,” said Arnett, “Despite all those moves back there. I think your sick, old man.”“Sick? I believe it,” asked Flint.“You are… from the island, aren’t you?” said Arnett, “I always thought it was some sort of ghost story or something. ““What do you mean?” asked Flint.Arnett thought a moment, before looking up at Flint again, “Could you do that fighting moves stuff if it came to it again?”“Yeah, sure,” asked Flint, “Why?”“We have to find someone smarter then me,” said Arnett, “Someone who can explain a lot. Someone I trust. Come on!”“Well, smarter then you isn’t hard, kid,” yelled Flint, taking off after Arnett into the public street, “You brought a trash-can to a gun fight today, remember?”Arnett had to do some digging. Sending a wire back to his home town to one of his professors sent him to a contact of his in the Capitol City of Gearford. After the wire returned from that contact, Arnett had the name of someone who could help who was conveniently in the City of Argenstrath. It took some work, but they were eventually able to track him down.Flint proved a very helpful old man, walking and demanding information with an air of superiority that Arnett found confusing. He was polite, for the most part (he did practically mug a post man for an exact door number) and he was very rude in the sense of it was difficult for him to take 'No' for an answer to his demands. However, people generally seemed to like him and were more helpful then they would be to Arnett.In a matter of hours, late into the evening, Arnett found himself ducked behind a bench outside of an apartment building looking at the landlord's house. The Contact in Gearford assured Arnett that this man was once a scholar of some renown, and a teacher at many universities. He had studied the island with other scholars years back and claimed to know a few things of the strange island. Arnett decided that if anyone could help them, and decide who Flint was, it was probably this man."If not," Arnett had said, "He will definitely know who could help us.""How on earth does nobody else know about this damn island?" asked Flint."Don't you mean Orr?" Arnett had said, before saying, "Anyways, it's a... freaky Island. Rumor used to be it moved... and there were monsters and creatures roaming the island!""Dark ages shit," spat Flint."Maybe. But the Prush Confederacy has a ban on all travel to the Island and it is generally frowned upon by everyone else. The place is apparently really freaky. Sends out bad waves or something.""I'd agree with that," said Flint, shaking his head.Now the two were outside this land lord's door where he was said to live. Flint looked up and down the street, and pulled down the brim of his hat. He clasped his hand on Arnett's shoulder before standing up and trotting across the street. Arnett nervously looked around the street while Flint examined the door."You sure about this, kid?" asked Flint."That or the police," said Arnett, "But the police won't be helpful. Not if what I think is true. And if what you say is true then odds are these people might own the police.""Didn't think about that," said Flint, "But that is a true assessment."Flint reached the door first, and he pulled out the pistol he had stolen. Arnett gasped and stepped back. Flint gave him a weird look."What are you going to do?" asked Arnett."Talk to him," said Flint, gesturing to the gun with a nod, "And taking precautions.""Why don't we try a friendly 'hello' first," said Arnett, moving around Flint to stand in front of the door, "Why don't you put that away before you got the bobbies down here, yeah?"Flint rolled his eyes, but a sudden coughing fit forced him to holster the pistol and turn away, coughing into his arm. Arnett smiled, and knocked on the door. Flint regained his composure and stood next to Arnett.A shadow appeared behind the door, and after several locks moved, it opened a crack. Standing at the door was an older man. He was balding with white hair. He wore elegant robes that were out of place among regular society. He was cleaning a pair of spectacles as he greeted the two, and then he placed them on his narrow nose.He gasped, "You!""Greetings, sir," said Arnett, his voice sounding a little forced, "I was told through a long list of people that you can help us.""You?" asked Flint, his eyebrows narrowing.The old man cut them off however, "Help you? What sort of help? I'm just an old man. I'm sure two gentlemen like yourselves can solve your own problems!""I have reason to believe that you know about the Island," said Arnett, then he leaned closer, "I think he's from there. He's a... 'visitor'."The old man looked Flint up and down, and then pointed, "The island, eh? How do you feel?""Look, man, I don't exactly have time for this," struggled Flint against a coughing fit."Are you sick?" demanded the old man, "Let me see your hand, now! Show me!"Flint was obviously taken back by his stubbornness. Even so, the old man reached out and grasped Flint's hand and turned it over. Flint pursed his lips and Arnett cringed. The rash had become a nasty lesion. The old man grasped the sleeve of Flint's coat and pushed it back. The same lesions and rashes could be spotted down his arm."What the hell," said Flint."You..." said the old man under his breath, looking up and down the arm, then his eyes widened and shot up to Flint's, "Quick, both of you. Inside. We have a great deal to discuss."The three were rushed into the house and the door shut and locked behind them. Arnett looked around the room. Loads of books lined the walls and in some areas photos and newspapers were stacked in heaps along the floor. The old man shuffled past them and led them through the small rooms. Towards the back was a kitchen-like area with a few chairs.The old man immediately ran to the kitchen and immediately began to pour cups of liquid."Oh, water. That'd be great," smiled Arnett."Stupid boy, this is Anti-Juice.""Never heard of it," said Joel, making Flint's eyebrow raise."Cactus juice, Chanka juice, and Caloric Oil," said the old man, smiling to himself, "The older one needs these.""Chanka... juice?" Arnett squirmed in his skin, "I won't lie, I didn't know they made juice.""Try not to think about it," said the old man, handing a cup to each of his visitors, "So, you. You I am interested in. Tell me your name and origin, stranger."Flint went to sip out of the cup, and the look on his face showed immediate regret. Arnett smiled awkwardly and sniffed the contents of his cup."Well," started Flint, looking down at the cup, "I don't know what you want to know exactly. My name is Lieutenant Nathaniel Flint. I am the commander of the Landship Scorpios.""Where are you from," interrupted the old man, "Tell me everything. names, time, etc."Flint sat up straighter, "I've been to a lot of places. However, what feels like ages ago, I was in a town outside of Chicago, Illinois. Located in the United States of America.""What world?" asked the old man."What?""What WORLD, man. Where is the United States Located?""Geez... this world," said Flint, "North America. The Earth!""Not necessarily," smiled the old man, "Earth... my friend... you are on Orr.""Bull spit," said Flint, "How can a man leave Earth? What kind of trick is this?""Stop, Lieutenant," said the old man, "You do not understand the situation. Tell me, exactly, what happened the last few days. When did things start being... different?""Well... I don't know exactly," said Flint, "I was... well I was home. And these men attacked me in my house. Beat me up and bound me. They took me out to the lake, asked me a bunch of questions. They threw me into the lake. After a little while... I was in a river... and my bounds broke. Then there was a water fall and I was flying through the air."Flint took a swig of the contents in his cup this time, and clenched his teeth as he swallowed."So, do you know who these men were?""I don't know. However I've made quite a name for myself back home. Maybe I made an enemy who grew the balls to come at me.""So, let's continue your story," said the old man, "You said you fell out of a waterfall from a river. Did you see... say... a bright light? Maybe blue? Maybe orange in color?""Couldn't say," said Flint, "I was in a rough state. I hit the ground hard, too. It was weird. Like... the Waterfall just disappeared. I know it sounds crazy but-""Nothing sounds crazy," said the old man, "Now I need facts. I need your story. What happened, man? What did you see? Silver Pools?""Well, I got up... and it was night time... like it was when I was thrown in. I looked around, and I noticed there were a lot of trees. And it was cold. Really chilly. I could almost feel it in my bones. I could almost feel like...""You didn't belong," said the old man.Flint nodded his head, his eyes fixing on the old man, "I wandered around in the woods or swamp for a little while and saw things in the mist. They didn't exactly give me weapons when I was tossed into the drink so I grabbed a tree branch and used it as a weapon. I swatted away a few creatures I have never seen before... large... monstrous creatures. I ran... and then... and then that airship picked me up.""Tell me about that," said the old man."Nothing much. Just those greasers pinned me to the ground and threw me aboard. They knocked me out and I awoke in that hospital, being questioned. I figured it was the same guys, and they wouldn't explain what was going on.""So you escaped and shot up half of Argenstrath?"Flint's eyes narrowed and his hand itched to reach for his pistol. The old man noticed the change and raised his hands."News travels fast in the city, Lieutenant. Besides, sounds like you already made up your mind on those thugs," said the old man, "Now, you, what the hell are you doing involved in all this?""He's a dumb kid and he got in over his head," said Flint, suppressing another cough."Not true," said Arnett, "Maybe I'm just a fan of a fair fight. One of those goons drew a pistol and the old man was outnumbered.""I think that the Lieutenant is right," said the old man, "You are in over your head. But it does not matter! What matters is you, Lieutenant. And what you are doing here. How long have you been in Orr.""I have no idea," said Flint, "I don't even believe that 'Orr' is another place. It doesn't even exist on a map!""Your map, perhaps," said the old man, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, "No... but here, it is our world. Lieutenant Flint, I think it is time to open your eyes."The old man cleared his throat, and paused while Flint entered another coughing fit. Flint grabbed the cup eagerly and downed the rest of the juice, wincing as he swallowed."Lieutenant Flint, of Earth," said the old man at last, "You are dying. You are suffering from a disease described only as the 'Traveler's Disease'. If we can not get you home in a suitable matter of time... you will die. Do you understand that which I have told you?"Flint paused a moment, "No, not at all. What do you mean, 'sick'? Why will getting me home help? I don't understand.""Ok, let me explain," said the man, looking towards the ceiling, "Here, on Orr... there is a place no one goes. It is an island. We have come to call this... Well Island. Well Island is a dark and mysterious place. It is where we find a phenomenon that we have come to call 'Wells'. These 'Wells' act as a doorway... a doorway into another... existence. Another world. There are thousands of them. More then we can count. So many worlds... so many opportunities.""Wait, wait," stopped Flint, "Wells? Worlds? Are you saying I have somehow been taken off Earth itself?""Most likely," said the old man, "But you must understand, our understanding of it is incredibly small. However, we do understand that these Wells act as doorways. People, animals, objects, things... they all come through the wells... and they can all disappear into them.""Everyone who goes there is never seen again...." mumbled Arnett."Children's stories," spat the old man, "An exaggeration. Well, now a days. But it does hold some truths. Many who go to the island and who do not know might find themselves in one of these Wells. Sometimes they never find their way back out, and thus are lost. Mostly, though, people are spooked away. Things coming from the wells are often creatures and beasts we do not understand, or objects of great power. These either kill or scare away anyone who doesn't understand the wells.""I don't understand," said Flint, "Monsters and doorways and worlds... how do you know all this? Actually, wait... why do we care? Didn't you say something about dying?""Lieutenant, patience," said the old man, "How do I know this? Because I am a seeker of knowledge. I... appreciate the things unknown to others. I know a very fine group of folks who do as well. That, and I have studied these wells in my youth, or as much as one could study them. I also know people who study them... and some who use them.""Use the doors?" Arnett had a smile growing to his face, "You mean peaking into other worlds? Other realities?""Some are explorers... many do not return. However, a very nasty group of people have taken to using these wells for gain. These 'Well Pirates' are a nasty sort. They seek to profit from these worlds... and they have a nasty knack of surviving their adventures. However, I assume it is all for not. The riches never last.""What do you mean?" asked Arnett, now sitting forward in his seat.“Well, Lieutenant, sadly, anything that enters our world is doomed,” continued the old man, “Gold turns to ash, water disappears, and people and creatures get sick. They will, eventually, die.”“Why is that?” asked Flint.“We don’t know,” said the old man, “The Well Sickness does not have prejudice. All who travel through the Wells and into our world will die.”“What about these Well Pirates?” said Arnett, “What sort of treasures can they plan to keep if everything they bring back dies?”“Knowledge, mostly,” said the old man, “But if they are quick enough they can trick merchants and guardsmen with the riches before it turns to dirt. Technology could be brought over but they are made of material that will not survive in our world.”“But can be recreated,” said Flint.“Indeed,” said the old man, “Or they can hide their treasure in the other worlds in order to retrieve them later for comfort.”“So why aren’t they dying?” said Flint.“Well, some of them do,” said the old man, “But it appears as long as you return to your own world, you will get better or avoid the Visitor Sickness all together.”“So, I’m going to die,” said Flint, closing his eyes, “Great.”“Wait a minute, you don’t have to,” said Arnett, pointing at the old man, “You said that all we have to do is get him back to his world and he should be alright, right?“I would hope so,” said the old man, “However, we don’t know what he’ll be going back to. Sounds like he wasn’t the most popular back in his world.”“I have to get back to my family,” said Flint, “Point me to that island and I’ll go right now!”“You’ll need a strong pair of legs to get there in time,” said the old man, “Or a airship. I could hook you up with somebody if you would like.”“You’ve done enough,” said Flint, rising, “Besides, I don’t trust airships.”“What about a good steambike?” asked Arnett, “One of those could take you across Araz and back.”“I wish I had my landship,” said Flint, who began coughing into a great fit.“What’s so great about this stinkin’ landship, anyway?” asked Arnett, “Landships are stupid and slow. There’s no way you could argue a good airship.”“Mine, could,” said Flint, “The Scorpios is the best landship. That baby is the work of years of minds and good deeds working together. That ship could shoot down ANY airship for miles.”“Oh yeah? Good design. Think you could build it again?” said Arnett.“Why?”“Well, if you only want this precious ship of yours and you think we can rebuild it then maybe that would take the cake,” said Arnett, “I used to work for a junk shop and fix up old vehicles. I think if you are sure, I could hook you up with a bloody landship.”“A Bit risky, don’t you think?” said the old man, “Why don’t you just allow me to hook you up. I know a man, a Commodore of all things, he owes me a favor or two… and I owe him a few things. He’ll see to it you get to Well Island, I promise. He’s there often enough.”“You sure you want to do this, kid?” said Flint, “There are people after us. There are Creatures on that island. We’re gonna need a real mechanized war machine. With cannons, and guns.”“Lucky us, I know a a place with a few loose cannons.”“Please, you can’t hope to build this… land ship in enough time. We really should consider getting an airship. You don’t have to be so mistrusting, Lieutenant. What if you die?”“Everybody dies, sir,” said Flint, tipping his hat, “I prefer it to be in my own doing.”A knock on the front door made everybody jump. The old man leapt from his spot and left the makeshift room.“Stay calm, boys. The Bobbies are the least of your worries,” said the old man, “For all you know, it could be the best help you’ll get all day!”The old man disappeared from sight, and his last remarks caused Flint to stand up, his eyes watering as he held back another cough.“So what do you think?” said Arnett, “A walker? A Rail Engine? Something I’ve never seen?”“The Scorpios?” said Flint, peering around a bookshelf.“Yeah.”“A Walker,” said Flint, his eyes getting larger and he turned.Flint walked into the Kitchen, and he looked around, spotting a window.“Good, there’s a great deal of ‘Kovy’ rusting in a pile in this place,” said Arnett, smiling, “Oh, this could be SO COOL! Can we write it down?”“Later,” said Flint, he opened the window and peered about, before smiling and climbing onto the counter.“What are you doing,” asked Arnett.“If you stay, I cannot promise what will happen,” said Flint, “You’re not with me, and you can still smooth talk your way out. However, if you climb out this window with me, there’s no turning back. You’re with me, got it.”“Are you climbing out of the window?” asked Arnett, his smiling disappearing.“I’m going home,” said Flint, “I have a family, friends, a ship. If people are in my way, people will die. This is going to be dangerous. And if I fail… I will die.”Arnett peeked around the corner of the bookcase. The old man stood in the first room, talking hushly to two large men in suits, pointing towards the room. He ducked behind the case and gasped.“Those guys are here, how did they know?”“That’s the deal, kid,” said Flint, now hanging out of the window, “Make your choice, kid.”“I’m not a kid,” said Arnett, “It’s Joel… or Arnett… or BOTH! Never kid!”Flint pushed off, and he disappeared from the window. Arnett gazed behind the bookshelf once more. The men were carrying guns like he had never seen. Even the old man was wielding a gun, and ushering in another two men.Arnett ducked back behind the book case and thought it over once. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Rushing to the window, he leapt onto the counter and swung into the window after Flint.





Blood, Sweat, Tears Arnett closed the door to the lavatory behind him and made his way back through the Train Car. Luckily, most of the benches in the car were empty. Besides the two of them, one family and a couple of women occupied the car meant for thirty passengers. Not many people could afford the ride now a days. Flint actually figured out how to fold one of the benches into a makeshift table (no one onboard could tell if this was by design because nobody had ridden very often) and set up an array of papers and designs and makeshift blueprints.



Flint was just finishing up a sketch of the fabled Landship, drawing what appeared to be a very large cannon of sorts on the back.



"It's too big," Arnett commented as he took his place across the table.



"It needs to be, the size of the shells as well as the distance they need to go requires it," said Flint, "The Scorpios is one of the best Anti-Airship Landships ever designed. It took years of work and many more intelligent minds then mine to ensure this baby would earn its place in history."



"I meant the Ship," said Arnett, leaning back and crossing his arms, "The Whole damn thing. If it is steam powered we'd never get the fuel or water to run it properly."



"There's always a way," said Flint.



"And there's only two of us," said Arnett, "We expected to build the whole thing on our own? We expected to pilot the behemoth all the way to the Island? Why don't we just walk?"



"Obviously there would be modifications... we'll have to tone much of it down."



"I expected a Kovy or something... This is a really weird design," said Arnett, pointing at the Ship, "The Legs are not an issue... but I think we'll have to find a boat or something for the Body."



"Hey, Joel," said Flint, dropping the quill and sitting back, twisting his wrist, "Let me ask you something, are you absolutely sure you can do this? If the old man is right, I could be dying. I'm relying on this."



"Yeah, I'm sure we can," said Arnett, smiling, "It's not going to be pretty, or very powerful, but I know a place where alot of this stuff is already working and lying around."



"We're going to steal it?"



"From a junkyard," said Arnett, "Barely even constitutes."



"How'd you learn to put together a landship?" asked Flint.



"It's not that easy. I grew up in a junk heap of a town. My parents were adamant I get schooling... so... I didn't have much else when school was done."



"Schooling is good."



"Well, it was hot and murky and depressing," said Arnett, "But I liked it. Anyways, I went to the local junkyard which was mostly used by the Mining companies and picked through by everyone. I spent alot of time amongst machinery. With mining equipment, there's alot of moving parts and steam parts and cogs..."



"So what are you doing now?" asked Flint, "Why risk losing your job and your life helping a crazy old man?"



"Oh, it was no problem like that," said Arnett, "I kinda... drift."



"Drift?" Flint cocked one eyebrow, but tipped his head so his eye accused just barely under the brim of his hat.



"Yeah, I do odd jobs. Sometimes it's fixing up stuff. Sometimes I'm just planning up some stuff."



"Planning up some 'stuff', huh?" said Flint, "Who do you work for?"



"Me, mostly," said Arnett, "I don't really have a set in stone job."



"So," said Flint, sighing, "Why is that? If you have these skills, why-"



"I DO have these skills, old man," said Arnett, getting angry, "Let's see YOU make it."



"Why, then, are you hopping around?" asked Flint, "Are there no industries in this world?"



"Yeah."



"Are there no businesses? Militaries? Needs?" asked Flint, "Why can't someone with your skill of digging through the trash and making something of value is stuck drifting?"



"I don't know," said Arnett, shrugging, "I guess I was just a little too afraid at getting stuck somewhere again. For years I was stuck in my home town... I never wanted to be stuck again."



"That's stupidity talking," said Flint, shaking his head, "No... that's not stupid, that is inexperience talking. That's a child."



"No it is not!" said Arnett, "Is it so wrong to want freedom? To want more?"



"Wanting more is what drives us forward through life, kid," said Flint, "But aimlessly throwing yourself into the future creates a shackle you can't run from. You need to think, plan, anticipate. Every move you make needs to have a purpose. You don't get freedom, you are not given your life, your career. You carve it out of the tree... you chisel it from the mountain. Only after you have a solid base and a knowledge of your craft can you know how to wield the freedom into an actual work of art, into real freedom."



"Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a whole lot of uselessness," said Arnett, picking up one of the blueprints and looking it over.



"So, I'm hungry," said Flint, "When will we get to this... uhm."



"Gearford," said Arnett, before he cleared his throat, "Actually, outer Gearford."



"Gearford," said Flint, "What a... name? Is it shaped as a giant cog or something?"



"There's a junkyard there which holds alot of the immediate junk from most of the mills, including some of Buford Automatons' junk. They are temporarily held there," said Arnett, "We should be able to use that area as a temporary base to quickly build something that can get us to that island."



"Sounds great," said Flint, "I have some real faith. And hunger... I'm gonna head to the lunch cart or something."



"Whah?"



"Food. You in?"



Arnett grabbed a few of the papers and began to examine them, "Actually, I'd like to look over your ideas a little more, if you don't mind."



"Sounds good to me," said Flint.



"Hey, Lieutenant... man," said Arnett, "Why does your Landship, built to resemble a Scorpion, only have one cannon?"



"What?" said Flint, "That was there first... I don't know. Scorpions have a stinger."



"Scorpions have two tails," said Arnett, "And two stingers. Wouldn't it make more sense to have two cannons?"



"Look, I don't know, alright?" said Flint, "This is what I have had for years, alright? Don't... ask stupid questions. The Scorpion aspect isn't the most important thing."



Flint turned and left the car. Arnett leaned across the table and grabbed the quill. Looking at the plans, he began to scribble on them.



The gunshot ran right through Arnett, who jumped back. The lock had disappeared, but the chains had to be tugged a few times by Flint to be tossed aside.



"The hell, Man," said Arnett, "We could have climbed over."



"Maybe years back," said Flint, "I just don't have the damn time these days. Grab that pack and let's go."



"We're going to need to replace that," said Arnett.



Flint pushed the fence aside and entered the Junkyard. For a Junkyard, this place was pretty nice. The "junk" was nicely stacked and organized. There were several shacks, and a large building in the way back. The mounds of actual trash made up rolling hills for the stacks of metal, copper, tubing, and other parts could be seen.



"Wow," said Flint, walking up to the closest shack, "This is one hell of a junkyard."



"Yeah, it's alot nicer then I thought," said Arnett, "Look, we're gonna need to find a way to grab what we need and go."



"Woah, cool your jets, kid," said Flint, walking up to the shed which had alot of paper notices on it.



Besides the normal safety and regulation and scheduling notices, one stood out in bold letters and Flint tore it off to read it. He smiled, and tossed it to Arnett. The Twelfth of Skia, 1891,



Attention, all personnel. Due to the Holidays of the Yeti and Vibranni Demon workers during these next few weeks, we have decided it would be more efficient to close down operations until the end of the events. Please be ready to work extra hard to keep up with demand upon your return to work.



During this time there will be no pay, and NO use of the company's water well. The grounds will be put under lock-down.



And please stop using the lavatories for social meetups.



Thank You.

"Huh, looks like we got some time, then," said Arnett, "How lucky. We can throw this together... look at all this buildup of stuff. This is lucky."



"It's 1891 here?" mumbled Flint, shaking his head, "None of this makes any sense. Anyways, that is good. So let's set up somewhere and get to building. What will you need for tools?"



"You really think this is ok?" said Arnett, "You think they will find us?"



"Maybe," said Flint, "Not our problem. Our problem is getting started. I'm on a ticker, remember?"



Flint had to rest for another coughing fit, Arnett went ahead. As he kept going into the yard, he noticed a few large mechanical legs usually used by landships of a small scale. As he looked closer at them, his mind exploded. He saw how they could go together. He saw their parts... he saw the landship. He was smiling. Farther down the path, he almost jumped for joy. Lying conveniently was a series of parts, however one was a large construction vehicle. He noticed the body of the vehicle was the only thing of use left, but if he could dig out most of it, and replace the rail wheels it used with mechanized legs... adding onto its size... maybe he could turn it into the landship.



Flint caught up shortly after Arnett dropped most of the bags.



"What's going on?" said Flint.



"This is it," said Arnett, "Let's set up in that shack, looks like a bunk house for foremen. We can build the ship here."



"Well, this looks great," said Flint, "How are we going to get this started?"



"First, I need a measuring tape," said Arnett, "Next, measure! Next... draw. I need to draw up some plans. Then I shall show you my vision."



"Can't you just rig something up and-"



"It has got to work," said Arnett, "Please, Flint. Let me do this!"



"Alright," said Flint, "I'll let you go about it. But first, let's set up, batten down, and get our bearings. But you got to be quick about all this stuff, we don't have alot of time, here."



Arnett was putting the finishing touches on welding the body together and Flint was going through parts for one of the legs they had found. The body of the new landship was beginning to come together rather nicely. With it being slightly larger the Arnett had ever expected it to be.



Arnett jumped down when he was finished with one of the last few sections. He had noticed Flint had stopped working so he decided a break didn't sound too bad either.



"What's the issue, Gramps?" asked Arnett.



"My button," said Flint, showing whatever he had in his hand, "It just fell off... you know it is very rare that I lose something off these coats of mine."



"It's just a button," said Arnett, who crinkled his nose while patting down Flint's coat, "No offense, but these clothes look like... old... like some sort of dirt suit. I mean, you got enough browns here?"



"Earth tones," said Flint, "And these clothes shouldn't look this.... crumbly."



"Looks like you crawled out of your grave slightly early," said Arnett.



"I'm gonna need new clothes," said Flint, "Not going to have my image like this."



"Well I'm sure there's some overalls or something in the-"



"Nope, not going to do," said Flint, "You ready for a break? We need to go into town."



"What? For some clothes... aw, come on," said Arnett, "Look, I thought we were on a ticker or whatever."



"It's not just clothes, kid. The right set of threads says alot to other people, it speaks to other people. Look at mine. What does it say?"



"Dirty old man," said Arnett, "And... Brown."



"See?" asked Flint, "However, you wouldn't help a dirty old man. No. Clothes can tell people you are proper, you are mature, you are smart, you are dignified... you are tough, you a smooth.... anything. It's helpful."



"That is a load," said Arnett.



"Come on, let's look around for some cash and go," said Flint, "Besides, you look like crap. If there are cops and stuff after us, we may need to consider getting new threads just on the basis of looking different."



Arnett hadn't changed clothes since the morning of meeting Flint. It was for this reason he closed his eyes and sighed.



After searching many of the shacks and sheds in the area, Flint and Arnett had dug up around thirty Ciams of cash. Arnett was so shocked that he suggested they break into the main building where they would most likely find safes containing the payroll and holiday cash funds. Upon breaking in, they did find several safes, and Flint was able to teach Arnett how to crack a safe. After grabbing about a hundred or so Ciams in the safe (to Arnett's dismay, they left a great deal behind) they headed into town.

Flint finished buttoning up the new shirt and he began looking through the ties that were on the rack the attendant had brought over. Arnett was sitting down, wearing a new shirt and looking at a pair of pants.



"So... you have a family, Flint?" asked Arnett.



"Yeah," said Flint, looking at a bow tie and struggling with tying it, "Wife... Kids... it's great."



"Back home, huh?" said Arnett, "So... Your Wife."



"She's smart," said Flint, "Prettiest girl who ever walked the Earth."



"Right, right," said Arnett, "How'd you meet her?"



"You know, I'm not so sure I feel like talking about this," said Flint, who was frustrated with the bow tie and he took it off, tossing it aside.



He wanted a necktie, but it crumbled when he took it off after entering the store. Actually, sadly, the dressing room has a pile of dirt, dust, and old looking clothing on the floor. The staff didn't look very happy about it, but with Flint at least buying them out of basic clothing they did not argue.



"So you think we'll make it?" said Arnett.



"You are one for conversation, aren't you?" asked Flint, shaking his head and coughing slightly, "I think we don't have a choice, Joel. My family, my friends, my ship... they all need me. I'm not ready to die, yet."



"Are you sure?" asked Arnett, "Your... mustache is a little grey."



Flint smiled and began to chuckle, which turned into a cough into the tie he was about to try on, "I hope you get half my age and your hair turns white as snow. Honestly..."



Flint gave a disgusted look. The tie he had coughed into was now covered in blood. The Attendant also had a horrified look. Flint handed him the tie carefully and smiled.



"Burn it, put it on my bill," said Flint, "Sorry."



"SO why is this old hat still hanging around," said Arnett, picking up Flint's hat and fumbling with it in his hands.



"Careful!" said Flint, pointing at Arnett, "That hat is older then you are, Kid. It's my soul. My entire life force. It lives on because I haven't died yet. it is... me."



Arnett and Flint shared a pause. Both looked at one another. Arnett's eyes seemed to slowly grow and his eyebrows raised. Flint smiled and began to laugh.



"Nah, I'm just kidding. I have no damn idea why the damn hat won't die," said Flint, "But don't play with it. I like that hat."



Flint gave up on a Bolo and tossed it aside, rummaging through the racks.



"Tell me about yourself," said Flint, "How about your parents."



"My parents," said Arnett, shaking his head and gently putting down Flint's Fedora, "Now we're on something I don't want to discuss."



Flint said nothing for some time. It was Arnett who paced up and down the shop before returning to Flint trying on an Ascot.



"My dad worked all his life in the mines," said Arnett, "He got out of it as I started growing up. He wanted to... be around or something. He became the Deputy Sheriff of the local police force. It's kinda a good deal, sure. Not many towns have private Police Branch in Antiford... so technically he is just as big as any other Deputy Sheriff in all of Antiford. But... it's just... he could be doing a lot more."



"Can he, now," said Flint, "How old is your dad?"



"I don't know," said Arnett, "Forty Something... I haven't really talked with him in a while."



"A while, huh?" asked Flint, "How come? Don't write home often? Can't pick up a phone?"



"Phone?"



Flint shook his head, removing the Ascot and tossing it aside. Arnett leaned against a shelf and debated trying on a pair of pants.



"Why should I?" asked Arnett.



"You know... I'm not sure, Joel," said Flint, "Maybe I'm just crazy."



"You think something happened?" asked Arnett, "Like... to him or something? It's just a small town, not alot happens. Maybe a Mining fight or breaking up strikes or something."



Flint smiled, winking at Arnett, "Never mind, I do know. That is why, Joel, right there."



Arnett just rubbed his arm and looked away. Flint grabbed another bowtie and tried to tie it like a necktie.



"Your Mother?" asked Flint.



"She's nice. She helps alot of the town people with their laundry and stuff... she doesn't really work much," said Arnett, "She's a Prush. My dad used to always call her his 'Prush Princess'. There's no royalty in her blood or nothing... just... you know."



"Prush, huh," said Flint.



"Prush Confederacy," said Arnett, "Nation to the south of Antiford. They don't really like us... but they aren't too bad. Just old Fashioned..."



"Good," said Flint, his nose turning at a Cravat, tossing it aside, "Tell me, what is your excuse for not contacting her?"



"I don't know," said Arnett.



"You don't know? or You don't have one?"



"Both, I guess," said Arnett, frowning, "Why you riding me old man? What does it matter to you? Why are we all talking about me? What about you, Flint? What about your dad?"



"My Dad..." said Flint, shaking his head, "My father was a great man."



Flint found a wide-necktie that suited him, and he cut it up to look closer to the one he had before. Neither of them spoke to one another. When Flint had finished the necktie, he smiled and nodded to the attendant, then telling him they could bring brown vests in his size.



"That's all?" said Arnett.



"That's all to describe him," said Flint, "My father was a man who did great things. What did he do? He was an adventurer and explorer in a time when there was nothing else to explore. He went to jungles... he met natives... he went to ruins. He even began one of the greatest expeditions to explore the bottom of our ocean."



"WOW, really?" said Arnett, pulling up a chair, "The bottom of the ocean... sounds fantastic. He did all that?"



"Everybody liked him," said Flint, "Everyone... but he didn't like everyone. In fact, he overlooked many."



Flint's head ducked, and his eyes closed. Arnett watched him for a few minutes, then nodded and crossed his arms. Flint opened his eyes and buttoned up a vest and starred into the mirror.



"He was a great man," said Arnett, "Doesn't mean he was a great dad, huh?"



Flint did not say anything as he displayed the vest



"What about your mom?"



Flint sighed, closing his eyes again. He shook his head.



"I never knew my mother," said Flint, clearing his throat, "Or I don't remember remembering... I'm at that age, Joel. But I am told she was a strong woman."



Silence filled the room once more. Flint sent away the Attendant with measurements and a design for a coat. Arnett almost let loose a chuckle at his ridiculousness. Flint turned around, however. His eyes were read and watery, and his nose was beginning to turn red. Flint began a small coughing fit. Turning to Arnett, he showed off his new suit.



"You look weird," said Arnett, "People don't normally wear that with a gun."



"Oh, the gun... right," said Flint, "I still need that."



"Or we don't," said Arnett, "It's not THAT important."



"We shall see," said Flint, "Now... let's talk... about all this."



Flint gestured to Arnett's clothes. Arnett raised his eyebrows and shook his head no. Flint smiled awkwardly, shrugged, and nodded.



Arnett stepped out of the clothing store. He adjusted the Cravat he had around his neck and smiled. He strolled out onto the Gearford streets and did a spin for Flint, now wearing his new suit with matching overcoat. Flint flipped his hat onto his head and ran his finger down the brim.



"Feel better?" asked Flint.



"A little," said Arnett, "Maybe a little ridiculous."



Arnett saw a group of women pass. One was absolutely gorgeous, smiling at him from behind her fan. Arnett smiled and saluted, causing the entire group to burst into laughter and scuttle away, the main girl blushing and waving. Flint crossed his arms and smiled.



"You noticing the magic already?" answered Flint.



"Oh, yeah," said Arnett, stepping closer to Flint, "Let me tell you something; Give me some time and I wager I can get her. Things I would do to that body. She wouldn't see straight for a damn week. MAN! And her little friends? Hey, you want one?"



Flint's backhand was barely seen by Arnett as it wiped across his face. Arnett was pushed back and he held his face. After he recovered he looked up and Flint, shock on his face. Flint had a glare, and he stared at Arnett just below the brim of his hat, a look Arnett had to admit was incredibly unsettling to receive.



"The HELL, old man!" yelled Arnett, looking around at the other pedestrians catching glances of the situation.



"How DARE you speak like that about a lady," said Flint, "Damnit, kid. Ain't you ever been taught about manners?"



"You old bastard," said Arnett, "You got to go off and hit me. If it's that bad we can go back to the junkyard and stuff."



"Junkyard and stuff?" said Flint, "You kid... you have no idea. You need to change your attitude. Or you'll ALWAYS be a kid and alone and a loser!"



"The hell," Arnett wiped away the blood beginning to seep from his mouth, "That was..."



"Embarrassing," said Flint, "Grow up. Women are not things. I didn't buy you new clothing and a new look so you could entrap women with your... ness. Don't you want to be a man? Then act like it!"



"You hit me again, and I'll drop you," said Arnett.



"Will you, now?" asked Flint, standing up straighter, his hand resting by his thigh holster.



Arnett didn't say anything. He took a few steps back and just stared at Flint. There was a silence, until Arnett blinked prefusly and then looked away all together, wiping at his face.



"Alright then," said Flint, "Now do you need any supplies or anything before we head back?"



"Food, drink, some basic stuff... Yeah," said Arnett, "Why don't I draw you up a list or something?"



"Why don't you do that," said Flint, giving him a stern look, "Then get back there and get to work. We're running out of time."



Arnett nodded, looking away in embarrassment. Arnett closed the door to the lavatory behind him and made his way back through the Train Car. Luckily, most of the benches in the car were empty. Besides the two of them, one family and a couple of women occupied the car meant for thirty passengers. Not many people could afford the ride now a days. Flint actually figured out how to fold one of the benches into a makeshift table (no one onboard could tell if this was by design because nobody had ridden very often) and set up an array of papers and designs and makeshift blueprints.Flint was just finishing up a sketch of the fabled Landship, drawing what appeared to be a very large cannon of sorts on the back."It's too big," Arnett commented as he took his place across the table."It needs to be, the size of the shells as well as the distance they need to go requires it," said Flint, "The Scorpios is one of the best Anti-Airship Landships ever designed. It took years of work and many more intelligent minds then mine to ensure this baby would earn its place in history.""I meant the Ship," said Arnett, leaning back and crossing his arms, "The Whole damn thing. If it is steam powered we'd never get the fuel or water to run it properly.""There's always a way," said Flint."And there's only two of us," said Arnett, "We expected to build the whole thing on our own? We expected to pilot the behemoth all the way to the Island? Why don't we just walk?""Obviously there would be modifications... we'll have to tone much of it down.""I expected a Kovy or something... This is a really weird design," said Arnett, pointing at the Ship, "The Legs are not an issue... but I think we'll have to find a boat or something for the Body.""Hey, Joel," said Flint, dropping the quill and sitting back, twisting his wrist, "Let me ask you something, are you absolutely sure you can do this? If the old man is right, I could be dying. I'm relying on this.""Yeah, I'm sure we can," said Arnett, smiling, "It's not going to be pretty, or very powerful, but I know a place where alot of this stuff is already working and lying around.""We're going to steal it?""From a junkyard," said Arnett, "Barely even constitutes.""How'd you learn to put together a landship?" asked Flint."It's not that easy. I grew up in a junk heap of a town. My parents were adamant I get schooling... so... I didn't have much else when school was done.""Schooling is good.""Well, it was hot and murky and depressing," said Arnett, "But I liked it. Anyways, I went to the local junkyard which was mostly used by the Mining companies and picked through by everyone. I spent alot of time amongst machinery. With mining equipment, there's alot of moving parts and steam parts and cogs...""So what are you doing now?" asked Flint, "Why risk losing your job and your life helping a crazy old man?""Oh, it was no problem like that," said Arnett, "I kinda... drift.""Drift?" Flint cocked one eyebrow, but tipped his head so his eye accused just barely under the brim of his hat."Yeah, I do odd jobs. Sometimes it's fixing up stuff. Sometimes I'm just planning up some stuff.""Planning up some 'stuff', huh?" said Flint, "Who do you work for?""Me, mostly," said Arnett, "I don't really have a set in stone job.""So," said Flint, sighing, "Why is that? If you have these skills, why-""I DO have these skills, old man," said Arnett, getting angry, "Let's see YOU make it.""Why, then, are you hopping around?" asked Flint, "Are there no industries in this world?""Yeah.""Are there no businesses? Militaries? Needs?" asked Flint, "Why can't someone with your skill of digging through the trash and making something of value is stuck drifting?""I don't know," said Arnett, shrugging, "I guess I was just a little too afraid at getting stuck somewhere again. For years I was stuck in my home town... I never wanted to be stuck again.""That's stupidity talking," said Flint, shaking his head, "No... that's not stupid, that is inexperience talking. That's a child.""No it is not!" said Arnett, "Is it so wrong to want freedom? To want more?""Wanting more is what drives us forward through life, kid," said Flint, "But aimlessly throwing yourself into the future creates a shackle you can't run from. You need to think, plan, anticipate. Every move you make needs to have a purpose. You don't get freedom, you are not given your life, your career. You carve it out of the tree... you chisel it from the mountain. Only after you have a solid base and a knowledge of your craft can you know how to wield the freedom into an actual work of art, into real freedom.""Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a whole lot of uselessness," said Arnett, picking up one of the blueprints and looking it over."So, I'm hungry," said Flint, "When will we get to this... uhm.""Gearford," said Arnett, before he cleared his throat, "Actually, outer Gearford.""Gearford," said Flint, "What a... name? Is it shaped as a giant cog or something?""There's a junkyard there which holds alot of the immediate junk from most of the mills, including some of Buford Automatons' junk. They are temporarily held there," said Arnett, "We should be able to use that area as a temporary base to quickly build something that can get us to that island.""Sounds great," said Flint, "I have some real faith. And hunger... I'm gonna head to the lunch cart or something.""Whah?""Food. You in?"Arnett grabbed a few of the papers and began to examine them, "Actually, I'd like to look over your ideas a little more, if you don't mind.""Sounds good to me," said Flint."Hey, Lieutenant... man," said Arnett, "Why does your Landship, built to resemble a Scorpion, only have one cannon?""What?" said Flint, "That was there first... I don't know. Scorpions have a stinger.""Scorpions have two tails," said Arnett, "And two stingers. Wouldn't it make more sense to have two cannons?""Look, I don't know, alright?" said Flint, "This is what I have had for years, alright? Don't... ask stupid questions. The Scorpion aspect isn't the most important thing."Flint turned and left the car. Arnett leaned across the table and grabbed the quill. Looking at the plans, he began to scribble on them.The gunshot ran right through Arnett, who jumped back. The lock had disappeared, but the chains had to be tugged a few times by Flint to be tossed aside."The hell, Man," said Arnett, "We could have climbed over.""Maybe years back," said Flint, "I just don't have the damn time these days. Grab that pack and let's go.""We're going to need to replace that," said Arnett.Flint pushed the fence aside and entered the Junkyard. For a Junkyard, this place was pretty nice. The "junk" was nicely stacked and organized. There were several shacks, and a large building in the way back. The mounds of actual trash made up rolling hills for the stacks of metal, copper, tubing, and other parts could be seen."Wow," said Flint, walking up to the closest shack, "This is one hell of a junkyard.""Yeah, it's alot nicer then I thought," said Arnett, "Look, we're gonna need to find a way to grab what we need and go.""Woah, cool your jets, kid," said Flint, walking up to the shed which had alot of paper notices on it.Besides the normal safety and regulation and scheduling notices, one stood out in bold letters and Flint tore it off to read it. He smiled, and tossed it to Arnett."Huh, looks like we got some time, then," said Arnett, "How lucky. We can throw this together... look at all this buildup of stuff. This is lucky.""It's 1891 here?" mumbled Flint, shaking his head, "None of this makes any sense. Anyways, that is good. So let's set up somewhere and get to building. What will you need for tools?""You really think this is ok?" said Arnett, "You think they will find us?""Maybe," said Flint, "Not our problem. Our problem is getting started. I'm on a ticker, remember?"Flint had to rest for another coughing fit, Arnett went ahead. As he kept going into the yard, he noticed a few large mechanical legs usually used by landships of a small scale. As he looked closer at them, his mind exploded. He saw how they could go together. He saw their parts... he saw the landship. He was smiling. Farther down the path, he almost jumped for joy. Lying conveniently was a series of parts, however one was a large construction vehicle. He noticed the body of the vehicle was the only thing of use left, but if he could dig out most of it, and replace the rail wheels it used with mechanized legs... adding onto its size... maybe he could turn it into the landship.Flint caught up shortly after Arnett dropped most of the bags."What's going on?" said Flint."This is it," said Arnett, "Let's set up in that shack, looks like a bunk house for foremen. We can build the ship here.""Well, this looks great," said Flint, "How are we going to get this started?""First, I need a measuring tape," said Arnett, "Next, measure! Next... draw. I need to draw up some plans. Then I shall show you my vision.""Can't you just rig something up and-""It has got to work," said Arnett, "Please, Flint. Let me do this!""Alright," said Flint, "I'll let you go about it. But first, let's set up, batten down, and get our bearings. But you got to be quick about all this stuff, we don't have alot of time, here."Arnett was putting the finishing touches on welding the body together and Flint was going through parts for one of the legs they had found. The body of the new landship was beginning to come together rather nicely. With it being slightly larger the Arnett had ever expected it to be.Arnett jumped down when he was finished with one of the last few sections. He had noticed Flint had stopped working so he decided a break didn't sound too bad either."What's the issue, Gramps?" asked Arnett."My button," said Flint, showing whatever he had in his hand, "It just fell off... you know it is very rare that I lose something off these coats of mine.""It's just a button," said Arnett, who crinkled his nose while patting down Flint's coat, "No offense, but these clothes look like... old... like some sort of dirt suit. I mean, you got enough browns here?""Earth tones," said Flint, "And these clothes shouldn't look this.... crumbly.""Looks like you crawled out of your grave slightly early," said Arnett."I'm gonna need new clothes," said Flint, "Not going to have my image like this.""Well I'm sure there's some overalls or something in the-""Nope, not going to do," said Flint, "You ready for a break? We need to go into town.""What? For some clothes... aw, come on," said Arnett, "Look, I thought we were on a ticker or whatever.""It's not just clothes, kid. The right set of threads says alot to other people, it speaks to other people. Look at mine. What does it say?""Dirty old man," said Arnett, "And... Brown.""See?" asked Flint, "However, you wouldn't help a dirty old man. No. Clothes can tell people you are proper, you are mature, you are smart, you are dignified... you are tough, you a smooth.... anything. It's helpful.""That is a load," said Arnett."Come on, let's look around for some cash and go," said Flint, "Besides, you look like crap. If there are cops and stuff after us, we may need to consider getting new threads just on the basis of looking different."Arnett hadn't changed clothes since the morning of meeting Flint. It was for this rea