!!sr5AlJV3CBP 01/04/10(Mon)13:28 No.7424826|
So you pack up all the shit you want, including your fantabulous clockwork car, your finest clothes, and all the gears and doodads you've got. You even sell off all of your remaining steam, and your workshop, using the cash to buy even more gears. You've got a fuckload of gears now. The clerk who sold them to you had a good laugh, "Ha ha, gonna go build some clocks are ye?" What a douchebag.
In the meantime, you keep going to the clubs and dancing to Mozart and shit. The babes keep checking out your fly moves and shaking their wrists at you. One woman was even so bold as to show you her calfs. That image'll stay in your spank bank for a good while. Maybe once this deal with Tesla goes through you'll be able to see knees! Can you imagine?
So anyways, after a week, you're sitting down at the docks, and it's foggy as shit. You've got your few bags of luggage and personal belongings, and several dozen crates of gears and tools.
Out in the distance, through the thick fog, you hear a loud, trembling horn. Soon, a quite advanced steamer ship comes into the harbor, and into the dock. You can see a few electric lights.
It pulls up in front of you and ties off. Some gruff looking dudes come out carrying trash and shit, and start loading up supplies of food and other such . . . ship stuff. A dapper motherfucker wearing a stylish turtleneck comes up to you. "Professor Nonymous?" He asks. "These men will load your belongings, and then we'll be on our way to Master Teslas' laboratory." He welcomes you onboard, and the strong dudes load all your gears and nick nacks.
The boat ride will take about a month to get to the Antarctic lab. The captain tells you that Tesla will be there waiting for you. Until then, you've got free reign of the ship. Of course it's mostly dudes. Except for the captains' recently 18 year old daughter. She's in her room studying her bible.