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.

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