Baccano!: Bedlam's Sojourn

Chapter 1: In the face of another incident, the vice-director once again denies that possibility that he is involved.

"Come one, come all, to the stupid commotion!"

The year was 1938.

For the world, it wasn't the best of years. Tensions in Europe were heightening, what with the activities of a certain far-right German becoming both far more drastic in nature and far more commonplace. The rest of the world was either doing as much as it could to either try and handle the problems that this particular citizen and other people or things were causing, or doing as much as it could to try to not be affiliated with the troubles that were going on in the world.

Such was the case with America, who had stayed rather quiet as the pot boiled in Europe, and even with an air of rather fragile placidity settling in around the country due to the USA's lack of participation in settling global problems, there were still those that thought their country should take action, that it should go against the status quo. Simply, many were concerned, be it about their nation's stance on worldly affairs, or even the concept of a future conflict.

Not every citizen fretted about only those two things, though. Indeed, many showed signs of worry over other matters.

Such was the case, deep in the hustle and bustle, the noise and commotion of New York, for one teenage girl. No ordinary one, mind you.

Her name was Carol. Ever since she was young, she had the distinction of being a member of the Daily Days newspaper company. Not just any member, mind you, dear reader, for she held a position of high regard, one that she still did hold to this day- the assistant of the ever-analytical pragmatist that was Gustav Saint Germain.

And what worried her at this point in time was not global happen-stances nor the predictions of a war, but rather, an assignment. A rather bizarre one, set by the vice-director of the group himself. This task that he dictated to her was regarding an event that had only happened a year prior to now, an obligation referencing a specific incident- a case about an airship named the Fair Lady. And, in the midst of attempting to complete that errand, she was swamped in papers, wallowing through information and selecting even more books to file through, for a long while or a short one, depending, and eventually adding them to the mountainous piles of codices that were stacked precariously around her.

All the while, the dutiful brown-haired girl, whilst crawling about the table and sifting through more written data, couldn't help but feel a pervading sense of deja vu nagging at the back of her head. Upon discovering this internal nuisance, she stopped scurrying about the tabletop and reclined, with a collection of books lying in front of her.

This does appear to be incredibly familiar, she mused. Like that instance a few years back...

She recalled a task set to her in days long since past, again, by Saint Germain, referring to a heist aboard a luxury train, which, too, occurred in days long since past.

This incident bears likenesses to it...granted, there are differences, but similarities can't be denied. Carol's train of thought surged onwards. She then cast an off-hand glance downwards, and thought further, Even the position I'm in...

She then thought about the vice-director again, and wondered about what it was he had said to her upon finding her submerged in heaps upon heaps of literary material without him knowing. I have half the mind to think that the boss will just materialize out of nowhere, and say-

"Carol...still such bad manners!"

The girl let out a cry as the new voice spoke, startling her so much that she, ultimately, nearly fell off the table. The reason it frightened her, however, was not because of its sudden, unprecedented entrance.

Those thoughts...almost hit the mark...

She quickly managed to regain her composure, and splutter out: "V-Vice-director! I-"

"Such a fine member of our team and you still haven't changed some habits in the five years you've been with me." The man's tone was suave, well-educated, yet condescending. "A shocking aspect, wouldn't you say?"

Carol stayed silent.

"That aside," Gustav said, carrying on, "your progress?"

The girl suddenly beamed. "I've looked through a lot of documents we have stored regarding the matter at hand..."

Gustav merely gave an inquisitive look. "And?"

"Well, this, so far, has been easy enough. That one woman...a part of the Russo family...she and her cohorts. They were the bad guys, right?"

No response from the aged man.

"And that second group, who was there for unknown reasons- I read that they were trouble causers, right?"

A pause, then:

"...Ninety-five points."

The mention of points had, in the past, flustered Carol greatly. Even now, it still did, as she bowed her head, nervous, and replied: "Out of how many?"

"You have only discerned sides, Carol. You have not decided upon main characters. For example, Carol...what if, despite her doings, that Russo woman was the central point of this happenstance?"

October 12th, 1937.

Location: Fair Lady luxury airship.

"I'll stick you...like a PIG!"

In the bowels of the gargantuan airship known as the Fair Lady, a bloodbath was taking place.

In one of the many hallways that spread throughout the monstrous vessel, said bloodbath was being instigated and carried out by a currently infuriated redhead going by the name of Yasha Bellini Russo- a devoted follower and technical family member of the murderer who gained infamy among friends, enemies and others for being a part of the Flying Pussyfoot incident several years past- who was, at this point in time, occupied with dealing with those who stood before her, a reddened blade in her left hand and a recently torn-off railing in her right.

Those who stood before her, namely, her victims, were a sextet of young females, the most of them being bloodied by the redhead's onslaught and all of them trying to defend themselves against their impromptu adversary. The Russo woman instantly set her sights on four of the victimized individuals, and, much to the shock of the first of the group of her targets, a silver-haired, red-eyed girl, she drew her right back, the railing along with it, and, a mere moment later, thrust it forward with a yell, the railing impaling both Red Eyes and those who stood with her, two black-haired individuals and one strawberry blond, ramming through all four of them and digging into the wall behind them, the Russo woman's attack being met only with brief cries of pain from the helpless quartet in response before they fell limp.

With a mutter of "Stay put" to the lifeless group of four, she then set her sights on the remaining two targets- a brown-haired woman and a raven-haired figure holding a sword in self defense. Despite their efforts to defend themselves, however, they, too, were beaten back, albeit with more resistance on their part than their companions, and the two were forced back and slumped against a wall after Yasha, now with her bloodied blade held by both hands, got the upper hand over her brown-haired victim, taking the opportunity to slash her across the chest and forcefully kick her into the aforementioned wall, and threw the raven-haired woman into both her ally and, once more, the wall, after a failed attack on her part. Yasha then moved in on the beaten-back pair, and struck down with her blade again, but the raven-haired figure, till managing to hold onto her own blade, blocked the blow- but was caught off-guard when the redhead then drew a blade concealed in her jacket's sleeve, and proceeded to run said weapon through the pair, leaving them slumped, unmoving, against the bloodied wall.

And, with this, Yasha Bellini Russo, panting heavily, turned away from the scene of carnage wrought by her hands, and carried on her crusade.

"Or, Carol," he said, accentuating his words in a staccato-like fashion, "what if the same applied to that other group of characters?"

"Well..."

"Or, Carol," he said, his one sagacious eye narrowing, "what of the others? There was a whole multitude of passengers on board the Fair Lady. Each had their own story to tell of the events that passed in that vessel. Use your wit!"

October 12th, 1937.

Location: The Fair Lady.

Kyoko Nokogiri, bound, gagged and tied up to a chair in a compartment in the back of the luxurious vessel that was the Fair Lady, stared with widened eyes at the shadowed figure that slowly approached her.

Said man was a young, grinning fellow, with a head of blond hair, strands of which fell over his face, dressed in an unblemished and immaculate set of white clothes from top to bottom, his attire topped off with ovular glasses that gleamed, almost maliciously, in the darkness. He paced towards the restrained girl, grinning like a shark as the tied-up Kyoko could only stare at him- and he did so with a pocket knife in hand.

And as he moved in on the girl, he said, in an accent with a thick German tone:

"What might you be doing here, Fraulein?"

Kyoko could only utter a muffled response, as the man in white came even closer, now tossing the blade he held and catching it repeatedly as he made his way towards her. Replying to the girl's muffled, unclear exclamation, he uttered, "No answer? Ah, well, no matter. However..."

Now in front of Kyoko, he stooped down to her eye level, narrowed his eyes, and said, darkly, "Muffled as your reply was, you sounded somewhat scared, don't you know? Well," he whispered, briefly pausing and widening his grin before continuing, "don't you worry about that..."

With this, he held the knife, shining ominously in the dark, up to the girl's face, and, giggling uncontrollably, stated in a loud and almost maniacal tone:

"The fun's only just started!"

Yet another pall of silence fell over the two, until Gustav took a few paces- having aged, he had a little less spring in his step, but he was able nonetheless- and leaned into Carol's face. "And, Carol..."

The teenage girl stuttered, and recoiled slightly upon seeing the vice-director's eye boring into hers. "Y-yes?"

"Have you taken into account any possible circumstances which might have caused that incident to happen, as well?"

"...I have", was the confident reply.

"Oh?"

"We don't know the motives of the second group," Carol stated, succinctly, "but I believe it was sparked off by revenge."

Gustav's tone held a level of intrigue to it. "Revenge?"

"That Russo woman- I remember that she had ties with a certain other in her family that was locked up in Alcatraz. Avenging his incarceration would be plausible..." She hesitated for a moment. "I know there are many other standpoints, vice-director, but this is what I believe is most likely."

"Go on..." Gustav uttered.

"As for main characters, they could have very well have been anyone on that airship. There was that woman's group, the others' unit, that German boy and Japanese girl, but..." She searched the surface of the table that she was still seated on for a fleeting instant, then hefted up a book, picking it out from the many mounds of books that lay strewn across the top of the item of furniture. She opened it quickly, skimmed through it just as quickly, then came across a certain article, promptly proceeding to indicate a picture, or rather, a group of figures in said picture, to her superior. Gustav peered at it, quizzically.

"These guys here. I reckon they're the main characters."

Still looking at the picture, analyzing it, especially the group that Carol had pointed out to him, which consisted of a man in a suit with a typewriter tucked under his arm, a young lad who held a case in one of his hands, and a few others (who all looked rather disheveled, he noted) Gustav said, "Why do you think that?"

"They just look like the kind of people who are unexpected heroes...you know? That situation needed heroes, and I think these few are those heroes. They look like the kind that can end up saving the day, in my opinion."

Gustav couldn't help but grin. He placed the book back on the table, and about-turned, exclaiming, "A good choice, Carol." Another pause.

"But!"

Carol was confused, "But, sir?"

"As a final question, ask yourself this- is it possible that, in this incident where purported revenge and heroism are abound...we are meticulously involved in what occurred back then?"

Carol recalled what she had been asked five years ago- the same question. Her answer was, "I honestly don't think so, vice-director...why do you ask?"

And, in response, the old Gustav Saint Germain smirked, almost devilishly, almost knowingly, just as he did all those years ago...

And the commotion from the past was about to commence.