"Ah' look ridiculous..." Ninurta said as he pulled at the tight starched-collar of his costume. "...Are yer' sure all of Victorian London
wore this type of get-up?" he growled as he brushed his hands down the waistcoat until he met the silver watch-chain.
Tibbs finished examining the read-outs from the access-router and with a lift of his eyebrows, decided that over all, a dapper
gent of the late-1800's would fare better than a ruffian from the London dockyards. The GunMan seemed reluctant with the plan
that only he and Boy In A Dress would take on in this mission, that is -until he picked up the black Chesterfield overcoat.
"Now that's a dandy" he murmured and pulling it on, eyed his companion for approval.
Mucklebones was still seeing to BIAD, he'd also griped about being a dressed-up participant in catching the famous killer of
Whitechapel, but it seemed the canny Witch had brought him around with words of endorsement.
"Yer' suit this better than me" Muckles grunted with mock-envy as she pulled on the strings that tightened the boned corset.
Boy In A Dress felt the bare foot of his tailor on his back and thought better-of-it to not look over his shoulder, Muckles aspired
to the same doctrine as himself and wore no undergarments.
The full-length dress wasn't satin -as the ladies of the era enjoyed, but made of carlex-fibre that was lighter and held the same
attribute that Ninurta's ankle-length coat had, it was impenetrable to a bullet or blade. It seems the little Vithian had thought of
everything.
Looking at the tiny parasol leaning against the leg of the time-machine, Mucklebones wondered why the hell the women of that time
carried one. Wasn't Victorian London supposedly covered in smog? But focusing on the hermaphrodite and his concerns of pulling
the dress over the large hooped-crinoline, Muckles grabbed the hem of the frilled-material and brought to the base of the cage-like
petticoat and forgot about the climate of an industrial-age.
BIAD turned slowly as he finished tying his poke bonnet and asked with a sincere tone "Will I fit in?" The crone in the grubby-poncho
wanted to laugh out loud at the weird long-fringed creature in the elegant attire, but with her no-nonsense husband so close by, she
thought better of it.
"Yer' a belle" Muckles said softly and patted BIAD's shawl-covered shoulder.
After explaining to the well-dressed gent with the bad attitude that a Broadway silk hat would ensure more eminence in the seedy
back-streets than a Gentleman's Derby hat, Tibbs finally revealed his piece de resistance. A rosewood walking cane with a little
secret for any would-be mugger.
Ninurta's evil smile in the reflection of the carbon-steel sword was chilling as he inspected the weapon and it only faded when Tibbs
sternly advised that the GunMan's pistol could not accompany him and his lady-friend on their mission. "It's simple really..." the small
time traveller explained in an obvious sarcastic tone, "...our elusive prey needs to captured alive and not with a huge hole in his head
from that thing"
Sliding the blade back into it's wooden sheath, Ninurta said nothing and the robed firebrand of the scheme took it as one of those
rare compromises the Vandalian offered. With a glance over to where BIAD twirled his small sunshade, Tibbs reckoned they were
ready.
The time machine was fired-up and the early morning of 9th November 1888 awaited the gang of four to catch -what those for
centuries had believed, was the intangible.
wore this type of get-up?" he growled as he brushed his hands down the waistcoat until he met the silver watch-chain.
Tibbs finished examining the read-outs from the access-router and with a lift of his eyebrows, decided that over all, a dapper
gent of the late-1800's would fare better than a ruffian from the London dockyards. The GunMan seemed reluctant with the plan
that only he and Boy In A Dress would take on in this mission, that is -until he picked up the black Chesterfield overcoat.
"Now that's a dandy" he murmured and pulling it on, eyed his companion for approval.
Mucklebones was still seeing to BIAD, he'd also griped about being a dressed-up participant in catching the famous killer of
Whitechapel, but it seemed the canny Witch had brought him around with words of endorsement.
"Yer' suit this better than me" Muckles grunted with mock-envy as she pulled on the strings that tightened the boned corset.
Boy In A Dress felt the bare foot of his tailor on his back and thought better-of-it to not look over his shoulder, Muckles aspired
to the same doctrine as himself and wore no undergarments.
The full-length dress wasn't satin -as the ladies of the era enjoyed, but made of carlex-fibre that was lighter and held the same
attribute that Ninurta's ankle-length coat had, it was impenetrable to a bullet or blade. It seems the little Vithian had thought of
everything.
Looking at the tiny parasol leaning against the leg of the time-machine, Mucklebones wondered why the hell the women of that time
carried one. Wasn't Victorian London supposedly covered in smog? But focusing on the hermaphrodite and his concerns of pulling
the dress over the large hooped-crinoline, Muckles grabbed the hem of the frilled-material and brought to the base of the cage-like
petticoat and forgot about the climate of an industrial-age.
BIAD turned slowly as he finished tying his poke bonnet and asked with a sincere tone "Will I fit in?" The crone in the grubby-poncho
wanted to laugh out loud at the weird long-fringed creature in the elegant attire, but with her no-nonsense husband so close by, she
thought better of it.
"Yer' a belle" Muckles said softly and patted BIAD's shawl-covered shoulder.
After explaining to the well-dressed gent with the bad attitude that a Broadway silk hat would ensure more eminence in the seedy
back-streets than a Gentleman's Derby hat, Tibbs finally revealed his piece de resistance. A rosewood walking cane with a little
secret for any would-be mugger.
Ninurta's evil smile in the reflection of the carbon-steel sword was chilling as he inspected the weapon and it only faded when Tibbs
sternly advised that the GunMan's pistol could not accompany him and his lady-friend on their mission. "It's simple really..." the small
time traveller explained in an obvious sarcastic tone, "...our elusive prey needs to captured alive and not with a huge hole in his head
from that thing"
Sliding the blade back into it's wooden sheath, Ninurta said nothing and the robed firebrand of the scheme took it as one of those
rare compromises the Vandalian offered. With a glance over to where BIAD twirled his small sunshade, Tibbs reckoned they were
ready.
The time machine was fired-up and the early morning of 9th November 1888 awaited the gang of four to catch -what those for
centuries had believed, was the intangible.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.