Gunningshire: Normal

VVVVVVVVRRRRROOOOOOOOOP

"...What the devil?"

He'd done it. Dr. Bulgrave had successfully added the new dimension to his sifter, and transported himself there with a hundred different ideas in his head for what could await him. He'd expected someplace run-down and slummy. A place Gust could blend in.

Which is why he was left dumbfounded when confronted with a green, well-kept suburban block that looked like it fell out of a picture-perfect fifties sitcom. Immediately Dr. Bulgrave was aware of two things: First, he was roughly a five zillion on the Scale of Conspicuousness, and secondly Gust would be just as much of a sore thumb.

"The poor boy's likely gotten himself arrested..." Bulgrave mused, strolling down the sidewalk and trying to keep his steam billowing to a minimum. "I'd better find the police."

-2 HOURS LATER-

"The very nerve of that man! Yes, I know it's not Halloween, you whelp! Hmmmmph!"

You could almost see the mask scowl as Bulgrave grumbled to himself on a bench. He glowered at the world around him. Yes, it looked pretty, and clean, and well-mannered, but something was off here. Something wasn't right. And not just the hundreds of weird stares he'd gotten from the citizens of this world. It almost felt like the whole thing was an act, and if just a few things were tampered with the whole of the society here would collapse.

Identical houses with white picket fences. Hard-working suitcase-toting fathers coming home to greet their kitchen-bound always-smiling housewife and their 2.5 kids and their dog. It was... what was the word? Stifling? Maybe that one, yes.

He was so busy moping he almost didn't hear the motorcycle. Well, it was more like a moped. Whatever you'd call it, it was a no-nonsense, bulky, and decidedly non-extreme motorbike, and the only non-station wagon Bulgrave had seen on the road since he first got here. The man riding it looked unfamiliar, but then again Bulgrave had never seen Gust without his helmet. An attache suitcase was hooked to the front of the scooter, and the nice suit the man was wearing indicated that he, like all the others, had a well-paying office job and was probably going home to a family. The eternally grinning foodmaker and their perfect little tousle-haired kids. And of course a dog, or maybe a dog and a cat.

The man turned his head to look at Bulgrave and his eyes just about popped out of his head. To be fair, this was the reaction the doctor had been getting all day. But when the man made a turn to get off the main road and drove up to near Bulgrave's bench...

"...Bulgrave?" The man murmured. "The heck are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you, Gust."
"I'm not Gust. Not anymore. I go by Lawrence now."
"Lawrence? My god... *psssh* You've really integrated yourself into this society. To what end?"
"To what end? Don't you remember what I talked about in the past? I'm sick of the nonsense that revolves around those other worlds. I wanted a normal life. And during that last fight, you know what happened? I ran into the guy who gave me that arm. And he said he could make all that junk go away. I trusted him, and I was right to do so."
"So you're happy here? But it's so sterile and dull-"
"Safe, Doc. It's safe. I've had enough adventure to last a lifetime, and almost got killed twice. I'm done. So please, vrop on outta here before you lure some kind of death virus mantis robot kobber thing into my hometown."
"..."
"Gotta go, Chas is waiting for me."
"Wh-! She's here too?!"
"She's here too, and you can't meet her. Unlike me, she doesn't remember a thing about our little adventure. And I think that's just fine." Gust got onto his bike. "Goodbye, Doc. Don't worry about us. We're happy now."

Gust started up his moped, gave a simple nod to Dr. Bulgrave, and turned back onto the main road, puttering away.

The doctor watched him go, remaining silent for a while before finally moving to a secluded area. When he was certain nobody else was around, he warped away.

Gunningshire: Rival

"Excuse me... pardon me, ma'am... whoops-"

Dr. Bulgrave weaved his way carefully through the crowd. Curse his lack of foresight - he was so close to accessing the dimension he believed Gust had vanished to, but unfortunately supplies had to be gathered. Vital, important, desperately needed items required to finish the project.

Like, um, confectionary nourishment, oh yes.

As the doctor emerged from a tunnel underneath a cobblestone bridge, checking and double-checking his shopping list, he was stopped in his tracks by an irritatingly familiar voice.

"Wellll! My first day back and already I've run into old Copper-mask! Fancy seeing you again so soon, old boy!"

Dr. Bulgrave's teeth ground together as he turned and raised his head to see the man standing on the bridge.

"Barnaby."

"Sir Barnaby McManus von Buxton the Third, I believe you mean. So, as I was saying, fancy seeing you!"

"Yes. Fancy that."

"I say, I only just got back from an expedition to Africa. Found the most amazing thing!" Barnaby said jovially as he descended the cobblestone steps to talk without yelling, leaving his two associates on the bridge.

"And what would that be?"

"You'll never believe it - a living dinosaur! Had my boys capture the thing with tranquilizers and nets. It's been shipped overseas and they're hard at work studying it."

"...A living dinosaur, you say."

"Indubitably! The scientific discovery of the century! Turns out those African savages were right - the 'Kasai Rex' spoken of in their native legends was in fact a real animal!"

"...Fancy that."

He had gotten there first. HE had, not this smug bastard. But he'd squandered his discovery by weaponizing it. And then Jaxx Tantra had punched it so hard it erupted into a pile of ribcages.

And then he had been too obsessed with Project 28 to go and fetch another.

And then he was in prison.

And then it was too late.

"Hmm, well then! I'd love to hear what you've been up to lately, old Copper-mask! How's the animal-fiddling business?"

"...I've given up on that. I work solely in the fields of medicine and machinery now."

"Ah yes, your little wind-up toys. A most amusing pastime, to be sure!"

Dr. Bulgrave's gloved hands briefly clenched into fists. He was extremely glad his mask covered his current grimace.

"I believe, Sir Barnaby, that my studies in clockwork will lead to great strides in the future."

"Do you? That's not what I've been hearing. I've heard steamworking is on the way out, old chap. Have you seen the wind turbines they're pioneering in Valleyridge? Power from wind! It's astounding!"

A travesty of engineering, that's what it was, thought the doctor.

"Well, I imagine you're very busy gathering watch parts and the like so I'll be on my way - I'd hate to keep you held up from your advancing towards the future of clockwork!" A quick bark of a laugh, like if a walrus was amused. "Do take care - wouldn't want you getting anything stuck in your intake valve from working too hard!"

Barnaby strode off, leaving Dr. Bulgrave to silently turn and stalk away to the shopping center of Gunningshire. The steam venting from his pack came thick and dark.

Gunningshire: Storm

"Home... sweet home."

Dr. Bulgrave stood in the pouring rain, standing in front of his heavily damaged castle.

"This place has certainly seen better days. *psssh* Well, no sense standing out here in the rain."

The doctor entered slowly, looking around with some trepidation.

Alone.

He was completely alone here. It was such a bizarre feeling. Bulgrave had been a bit of a loner, true - aside from Dr. Welward, few ever visited him. Which had made this previous summer all the more unique.

There was no chance. No way. The kobbers had killed him. He couldn't have fled. The chances were infinitesimal. But to hell with probability, he was alone and had nothing else to do.

"...Gust? Gust, my boy, are you here?"

Silence descended upon the fortress once more, with only the rain and Bulgrave's breathing apparatus to dull the silent roar of emptiness.

He traversed the halls of his castle like a stranger, noting and observing every chipped stone, every smashed glass, every overturned object or fallen keepsake. The blackboard he'd used so many times to communicate with Blackbird was face-down on the floor. Some of his books had tumbled off the bookshelves, with one on insects having busted its spine upon landing. The food in the pantry had gone bad, except for the canned stuff.

Tcccththcccthcccccththc

The doctor stopped walking.

Thththccccccththccccccth

"...What?"

He reached behind him, grasping a handheld device hooked to his life support and sifter.

Tcccchthththcccccthcccthch

"It's picking something up... Someone sifted here?"

Bulgrave stared at the readings for a few moments before it dawned on him.

"...He got away. *Psssh*

He did survive."

He began fiddling with the device, flipping levers and turning dials, energy seeming to return to his movements.

"It might not be too late."

Gunningshire: Plague

Nobody had ever expected a deadly virus from an earlier age was lurking in their hometown. Nobody had even the slightest suspicion. And that is for the best. If they had known, there would have been panic. There would have been pushback. There would have been resistance to science, to the study of knowledge and discovery.

You see, after the Black Plague was finally completing its greatest grim tour of Europe those 600 years ago, someone had the foresight to capture it. Bottled up a bit of the germ in a glass jar and put it on ice in the hope that someday something less indiscriminately genocidal could come of it. Such forward thinking was rare in those days.

Through the centuries, the knowledge was passed down but kept limited to a tiny few. Whoever had managed to capture the plague told a fellow scientist. In his old age, this scientist passed it on to his brightest understudy. And so did the secret follow the best of humankind through the ages. Some of those who knew studied the plague under microscopes, spending weeks, months, or years trying to crack its code. Others knew, and passed it on, but never once decided to mess with it themselves, being too fearful.

It was inevitable that someone would finally get careless. And about five years ago, someone did. And so the secret was secret no longer.

This was where being more advanced as a society came in. We knew what the plague could do. We'd all read about it in school. And we'd changed. Our streets were not dirty and filled with animals. The homeless and deprived were kept clean and safe in group homes. People knew what showers were. And antibiotics were more advanced. The Black Plague wasn't just a musty memory from our history books. It had come back, weaker, in recent centuries. But it never made the same impact - not in more developed nations. And our advances in science were why. It's things like that that make me proud to be a scientist.

The moment the first deaths were reported, a quarantine was placed upon the city. Citizens were allowed to evacuate only if passing a complete and total examination to determine they and all possessions they wished to bring were 100% free of the plague and of carriers like fleas or ticks.

I was lucky. I have no family here, and I never caught the plague. Why would I? I spent most of my time holed up in my fortress, and on the rare occasions I left for errands I was covered in my typical dress quite well. Once I'd heard of the plague spreading I added a hooded coat to my ensemble, but that was all.

But really, I was especially fortunate that I didn't have to see my colleague, Dr. Welward, as anything but a friend.

Bartholomew Welward... is a morbid man. A man who has worked with the dead for his entire career. He has two specialties. The first is studying fatal diseases with no known cure. The other is study of the limits of human life - where life ends and death begins, how long the mind can persist, and whether there is such a thing as a soul. The coming of the plague gave a huge boost to his activity. He seemed to take more pride in his grim work than ever, and for the first time in years he began treating live patients rather than just doing autopsies and funeral services. He quickly rose to prominence as the go-to man in the city for plague-related treatments and discussion.

And he began wearing that damned birdlike plague doctor mask all the time. He was entirely too excited about this.

"Afternoon, Welward."
"Afternoon, Bulgrave! Keeping well?"
"Well enough."
"No symptoms?"
"None at all. *psssh* Seems my choices in fashion are a boon."
"Good to know."
"How many today?"
"Just two. The government's done a fine job keeping everyone orderly about this. We've hardly got more than twenty cases, none outside Gunningshire, and it's been two whole weeks. A few of them even look like they'll survive."
"You sound disappointed."
"Well..."
"Welward, why? Why do you have such a sick fascination for human suffering? *psssh* You and I, our job is to relieve suffering, not revel in the causes."
"I do nothing of the sort, Bulgrave. Seeing these people... men, women, children, all types - seeing them in need moves me to find a cure. I have studied the Plague for-"
"There is no cure for the Black Plague. Immunization, yes - surgery, possibly - but not a cure."
"No KNOWN cure, my comrade. But I'll find it. I'll be the first. I will be the one who saved the people from the Plague."
"You're a few hundred years late on that one."
"This year begs to differ. It could rise again for real, Bulgrave, immune to our antibiotics. What then? Why, that's when the world turns to me."
"Seems rather selfish of you to wish a disease to return from the grave just so you can be the hero."
"You're one to talk about selfishness. How's that research in brain disorders coming along?"
"Pah, I've given up on that for now. It's not possible at this time... *psssh* Instead I'm considering applying to join a Zoofights team, and learn that way."
"Zoofights? That traveling gladiatorial animal show? A fascinating pursuit to be sure, if a tad morbid. I've looked at many animals in my studies of the crossing of life and death, and I'm not certain that-"
"Humbug, they're only animals. Animals don't have souls, or feelings. And they don't feel pain like we do. They are tools for advancing our knowledge, and devices for human entertainment."

Dr. Welward stared, deep in thought, before finally responding.

"Are they?"

For years after our conversation, I thought I knew the answer to that question. And it was "yes".

Today, I am no longer so certain.