On a Midnight Train (Craft)
|On a Midnight Train (Craft)|
|Date of Cutscene:||17 February 2016|
|Synopsis:||Craft likes his work. Craft just doesn't like sharing his work with others.|
|Cast of Characters:||Craft|
The train was rocking back and forth- the inter-dimensional clockwork transport, or 'INT-CT' was hitting the rough patch of dimensional space they'd be warned about. They'd be on this planet... 'Earth' shortly enough.
Craft was in the 'Dining Car'. The others were... somewhere. He didn't care to keep track. Pennington was probably carefully measuring how much the turbulence was going to make them late. Hammer was probably staring at paint drying. Wheeler was probably punching the paint. He considered all these activities silly or barbaric. He was looking down at some plans on a sheet of pressed, new paper. Orders from Wraithton himself. The writing was eerily perfect, symmetrical, all the same.
Wraithton was in a hurry to send the Laymen out here. He knew why. /The Fairy/. Clockwork fairies were easy to capture on their own- lord knows there was only a handful left on Gearwork, but this one had something important. Empowered Sentinel watches. Bringing an end to Gearwork's own Sentinels was hard enough. Imagine if some came from off world!? It was a danger that was better not left to chance.
Craft lifted the paper and looked at the business card that was underneath the neatly typed orders. A sun against a moon. An 'Eclipse'. They'd be /working with others/. Ugh- but as he understood it, Earth was swarming with--- with these 'heroes'. Things 'like' Sentinels, but not. People who /helped/ one another. They'd hamper their efforts- so Wraithton worked out a little quid pro quo--- It was a sickening thought- but surely, they were weak if they had to band together? Surely they'd just grab Dabble and run back home and that would be that.
Craft pushed himself up from the dining table as he brushed down his fancy coat, and placed his bowler hat back onto his head, looking into the blackness consumed window as it looked out the swirling turbulence of the dusk zone surrounding Earth. He fixed his tie. Then he taped up a big sheet of paper and took out an inkwell, and a pen.
To make this as quick as possible, he'd need to come with a proper plan. Maybe even Pennington would approve of the speed of this one. He began to touch pen to paper as he began to draft his diabolical machination he'd need for this job.
There was work to do. There was always work to do- and the machine kept turning.