On a world with gears reworked into all manner of technology, a fashionable young woman sat in her corseted dress atop a square of cloth she’d spread across the greasy concrete floor of a factory and drank tea. Her name was Desiree, she had long blue hair gathered into voluptuous twin braids, and her bright coloration didn’t match her surroundings. She had a compulsion for leaving odd things in odder places, and had earned the nickname Crazy Dez.

Steam rose from her cup over impeccably cosmeticized lips as she watched the sun tint through the window grime in golden hues.