The Dawn of a New Age: Act 2/Chapter 2

Act 2: The Spreading Darkness
Chapter 2: Across The Sea
As written by RememberMe (Joseph Michael Schultz)

“What the fuck was that?” I mumbled mostly to myself; though any bystanders were more than welcome to answer the question. “Something tells it was important, whatever it was.”

Dreams and I were never really on very friendly terms. I could never remember them, no matter how strange, and they never called me back to schedule another visit.

“Whatever.” I groaned; writing it off as something entirely forgettable.

I raised my hand to slap myself again but proceeded to throw a punch instead. It more or less happened on its own, my body making a decision on how to most effectively administer a nice cool glass of 'wake the fuck up'. Upon feeling the impact of my closed fist crashing into my own left cheek, I deduced that I was in fact awake and back in the real world. Yeah, back to reality; just lovely. Well, with that astute deduction freshly in my mind, I decided to follow through with my previous plan and grab something to eat from the caboose in the very back of the train. I lurched into a standing position, still somewhat groggy, and turned to face Kiev sitting in the copilot's seat. My brain and eyes must have been having some difficulty registering the information correctly, probably backed up paperwork or something clogging up the bureaucracy that is my mind, because I just stood there staring blankly at him for a moment or two.

“Good morning, Detective.” stated Kiev cheerfully.

I continued to just stand there, shocked and confused.

Moving train? Check. Thousand mile long bridge? Check. Endless blanket of cerulean ocean in every direction? Check. Then where the fuck did he come from?

“I said good morning, Detective.” restated the large man; his expression slightly befuddled.

And then I drew my gun.

Sure, I'd seen the man teleport before, but that didn't exactly register with my brain either. Apparently, the metaphorical office workers inside of my skull had their hands full with being insanely angry, near psychopathic, and ready to unleash a clip full of vengeance into the face of that man that had abandoned us during our time of dire need.

After several seconds of tense silence, the barrel of my Desert Eagle leveling with his fat head, Kiev added, “Or should I say, bad morning, Detective? I've only just arrived and it seems as though I've already offended.”

“Shut up.” I retorted; my voice slipping out in that disturbingly all too calm and quiet tone normally reserved for complete and utter loathing.

Kiev just looked at me with an exacerbated expression and sighed an overworked sigh.

“We've played this game once before.” sighed the Slavic man; rolling his shoulders in an irritated gesture. “Must we do it again? It will only end the same, I assure you.”

And then I pulled the trigger.

The bang of the bullet's miniature explosion echoed loudly throughout the first couple of cars; similar to that of a loud yell traveling through a long tunnel. My projectile rocketed towards its target in what looked like slow motion for several seconds, then suddenly stopped in midair. Interestingly enough, he didn't dodge my attack this time; he swatted it aside as though it were an annoying fly. Kiev's thumb and forefinger were pinched around the smoldering piece of lead, trapping it. He then casually tossed it to his side and proceeded to stare at me indifferently. If it was a staring contest, then I'd have certainly lost, because my facial expression must have been both astonished and horrified. The motherfucker had just caught my bullet mid-flight and threw it down like a bad piece of chewing gum, AND he had the gall to act as though it weren't a big deal. It was a big deal to me!

“...So that's how this is gonna be, huh?” I growled a minute later. I mean, for fucks sake, he'd just grabbed a freaking bullet out of the air, so why the Hell wasn't he back there when we needed him doing hilariously unfair magic like that? “Yeah, that figures; you were cuffed last time, so I guess teleporting was all you really had. What if we'd shackled your feet; you'd have headbutted it or something?”

Kiev rolled his eyes and sat back down, almost ignoring my presence as he said, “So, the blame for your friend's death falls upon my shoulders, does it? Very well, I will accept that burden as best I can. But, Detective, let it be known that I cannot allow myself to die just yet.” He then turned to face me and stared deeply into my eyes. “There is yet more that needs to be done.”

Turning away from me again, he removed a pair of thin rimmed glasses from a shirt pocket and donned them. The lenses were extraordinarily thick, much thicker than any I'd ever seen.

“And I could not have saved the young man even had that been my greatest wish.” he added after a sizable silent pause. “I cannot deliver all those that have survived from the threats that yet linger.”

“What?” I argued fitfully. I wanted to squeeze off a whole clip of rounds at this point, but the fat bastard would probably do something even more impressive; like allowing himself to get hit and showing me how he can miraculously withstand gunfire. “No, I've seen you do things that people shouldn't be able to do, things that shouldn't be done in general! You could have saved us; you could have saved Will! But no, just as the shit hit the proverbial fan, you disappeared. You left us with a whole mountain of unanswered questions and an entire army to fight off. And if that wasn't enough, here you are now, appearing before me as though you'd just been invisible the whole fucking time and waited till now to remove the veil! If you can teleport out of a bullet's trajectory and teleport onto a moving train in the middle of the fucking sea, then I think that it's well within your power to teleport to a train yard in time to save an innocent man!”

Kiev reeled back for a brief instant, either startled or wounded by my words. His face lost any warmth it had held prior to my verbal attack and became as barren and desolate as a desert wasteland.

“And yet you didn't do anything to stop it; nothing at all.” I continued; grave anger quietly composing each and every word. “Apparently, you knew about Will's death before I even had a chance to tell you. So, do you even have an excuse? Were you just watching us from afar or something, eating a bag of peanuts while the circus performers tried to hold off the lions with a chair and a whip? Or did you even care enough to observe with a pair of binoculars like any normal person would? Were you just using your prophetic powers, some kind of crazy psychic power or magical vision that allows you to see whatever and whenever you want, to watch my friend die?”

Inhaling deeply, Kiev passed one hand through his tangled head of hair and then sighed morosely, “Once again, Detective, you fail to understand. It isn't as though I had a choice in the matter-

“No, you fucking fail to understand!” I roared as tears welled up; my gun now suffering from the violent tremors of my unstable arms. “We needed help; we needed some kind of knight in shinning armor carrying an anti-aircraft machine gun to gallop dramatically in and cut a swathe in the mob of psychopaths that flooded in at the last moment! We needed something; anything; another bland, normal, everyday guy with a piece of shit Saturday Night Special even! But but did anything arrive?!”

“...No, no one came to your aid.” acknowledged the towering man quietly.

I hefted my hand-cannon once more and readied myself to unleash Hell upon the man that I considered a traitor. My finger had trouble pulling the trigger, but it managed to release a small trickle of two thunderous shots.

Now, all things given, I'd expected him to do something astounding again; maybe explode into a cloud of smoke and bats, then fly out through the windows. Yeah, that would've gotten my attention. But perhaps I'd set the bar too high for him or just had high standards when it came to being shocked and awed via magic anymore. No, the shots impacted with a firm crunching sound and caused the man to flinch. However, as devastating as my attack might have appeared at first, it didn't stop the lumbering giant from taking a single step closer, slowly grabbing the barrel of my DE MK19, and steadily lowering it. Eventually, after several tense minutes, my only target was the cold steel floor. The big man met my soul piercing gaze with a stern expression of his own, one that I clearly couldn't match.

“If I had control over my actions, over my destiny, I'd have been right there fighting alongside you.” assured Kiev mournfully; covering his face with one large hand. “But as I said before, I am merely a prophet, and my role is not that of a warrior. I am tasked with scouring this world in search of those that the gods have plans for, nothing more. Yes, I am capable of great things, and yes, I am a fearsome combatant with many years worth of experience, and yes once more, I am one of the few gifted with extensive knowledge of the world's current state of affairs. I know all too well!”

I backed up a few paces as Kiev threw a fist into the nearest wall, a steel wall, and deeply dented it.

“When and how did you get it into your mind that I'd somehow come accept my role, my lot in life?!” shouted Kiev fervently; clenching his fists hard enough to stain the coarse fur of his hands with red and release a small trickle of blood. “I've hated and despised the minor part I've played in this centuries long performance, always forced to creep through the shadows rather than fight openly in the light! I have power, I have strength, and yet I am denied the right to utilize my abilities, forever forced to seek out other warriors and then subsequently abandon them during their time of need! I've watched children die; held them in my arms as their last bit of blood fled their veins! I've watched brave soldiers march hastily to their deaths and listened to them call out my name as they withered away in slow agony!”

Kiev slumped down into the chair parallel to me and became very still, oddly reminiscent to that of a comatose victim. He didn't move, he didn't speak, and Hell, he didn't even blink. His face was stuck in a frozen expression of grief, completely devoid of all traces of vitality and hope. I took a moment to look at him, closer than I had before, and noticed some things that really should have stood out before; things that should have been obvious during our first encounter. Kiev's hair, cut short and presumably kept neatly trimmed at one point in time, was dyed jet black and had a meager few strands remaining that were of his natural color. Those few hairs were white, pure white, and fiercely contrasted with the black dye of his hairdo and dark gray carpet of fur that coated his enormous frame. Beneath his body's thick layer of fur, barely visible, were many long running scars. The scars trailed all along his neck, hands, and the unclothed areas of his arms; probably further along his clothed limbs as well and perhaps down his back. The poor man was so beaten up, he looked like a road map. But stranger still, his body's general build was unlike that of any Snorlax I'd ever seen. Generally speaking, members of the Snorlax Clan enjoyed indulgent lives of gluttony and even more gluttony (followed by a slight smidgen more gluttony if there's enough time for it), but Kiev had the body structure of a trained martial artist; a warrior. I see now that due to his size and shaggy fur, that I'd just written him off as fat; never really taking any time to appreciate just how wrong that assumption was. Yeah, he might have had the plump belly of a hearty eater, but he had the arms of a redwood tree trunk. And finally, there were his eyes, his unfocused and weary eyes, which sparkled with the bright intensity of a well polished emerald. If anything, his eyes and their surrounding wrinkles were what really gave away his age; his jaded, tired, exhausted age.

The prophet, Kiev, had the unmistakable look and character of someone who'd lived far longer than any man should. I had no clue as to how long he'd been alive, but it was clear, crystal clear, that he'd survived many arduous trials and tribulations. Whatever plans the gods had in store for him, they weren't simple and they certainly weren't forgiving to the one meant to carry them out.

Kiev looked tired; the kind of exhaustion that doesn't go away after a two hour long nap and a satisfying hot meal. He was tired of trying, tired of striving, and above all else, tired of life.

I suddenly felt like an ass. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind; that this man might have had a harder, scratch that, MUCH harder, time of things than I had.

“I've seen the gods with my own eyes, heard their voices with my own ears, and felt their presence weighing down upon my own soul.” muttered Kiev as he turned his head to watch the ocean waves roll. “And so has Lucius, both the closest thing to a brother that I've ever had and also the bane of my entire existence.”

What was that; a new name? That caught my attention.

“Who?” I asked almost immediately; turning in my seat to face him. The request came out as more of a demand; not that it seemed to effect the depressed man.

Looking at me through glassy, tired eyes, the prophet jadedly answered, “Lucius Miaulez Deux, the soulless creature at the center of it all. The man that has brought down upon this world the dark, black, hellish flames of Armageddon. He, like I, rejects and loathes his role in life. But unlike I, he has taken to treading a darker path and seeks to topple the very gods that burdened him with a destined task.”

That's it; that's the name I've been waiting to hear. Lucius Miaulez Deux; them man I'm going to kill. After mulling over the sound of the name, I remained silent in hopes that Kiev might elaborate a little on who this guy was and where he might be.

“Blasphemy beyond blasphemy, committed by the hands of sinful men; men and women once devoted to the betterment and cultivation of a prosperous tomorrow.” Kiev explained as he began to pace impatiently back and forth. “But no, rather than use their extensive scientific knowledge to cure disease or develop a better artificial organ, this team of tireless researchers, fueled by sheer greed and lust for power, created a single biological weapon. They were paid in blood money to create Lucius's next living shell; a living, breathing weapon of war capable of ending someone's life with a mere thought; these people created the ultimate epitome of sin and evil.”

I almost told him to pause the DVD and wait for me to fetch some popcorn. Damn, this son-of-a-gun could deliver one Hell of a monologue.

Continuing, Kiev jadedly soliloquized, “It is a creature, a man not unlike you or I, capable of entering the minds of others and entirely overlapping their personalities. Through the use of psychic powers, this monster can control the weak of will and weak of heart, forcing upon them whatever he wishes. He possesses the power to creep silently into your mind and corrupt it from within. Though you may feel a slight twinge of pain as your former self is destroyed completely, it matters not; you will undoubtedly be overpowered by the malevolent creature soon to be born from your subconsciousness. These awful 'things' that he spawns are able to mimic the former personalities of the shells that they now inhabit, and stay hidden beneath the surface of society until commanded otherwise. They wait for their master's orders, lurking in the shadows everywhere.”

Wow; just, wow. I'd seldom heard of things quite that terrifying outside of horror movies. I mean, most movies don't even come close to competing with something quite that disturbing and frightening. Nut cases with knives? Been there and done that; I could handle a freak with a dagger on a lazy Tuesday. Psychos with chainsaws? You can still fight back if you're desperate enough and have the adrenaline rush going. But psychic mind magic? There's not a damn thing you can do, and that's the scariest thing on Earth; not being able, in any way at all, to save yourself from certain doom.

And this sounded like some VERY certain doom.

“I've summoned hordes of heroes to face his past five lives, successfully slaying him at the cost of those that I enlisted, only to have him rise years later!” sneered Kiev in a heated rage; shaking his fists in helpless frustration. “And now it seems all but lost! He has been given a body capable of cold, arrogant murder; destruction on a scale never before imagined. From a throne somewhere, somewhere high but not nearly as high as his ego, he's laughing at my inability to stop him; he's laughing at the gods for their senseless refusal to allow me my right to fight!”

The Slavic titan leaned forward into a window and pressed his face to it. For a long time, he just stayed there; watching the blue waves rush by us. He must have wanted to drown himself in that sea. It'd certainly be a swifter means to an end; for him anyway.

And that's when I felt it; a feeling of camaraderie between the two of us. I knew that this man, however flawed he was, was an ally and not an enemy.

“Why not?” I sighed; tapping the big guy on the shoulder and offering the man my hand for the first time. Turning to face me, Kiev stared at it for a long second, the gesture seemingly alien to him, then gripped it in return. He must have never been offered a handshake before, maybe never even offered another's trust, because the bone crushing grip that he applied felt something similar to that of a titanium vice. Sure, it hurt, but I didn't care. Kiev, though inadvertently, had just told me exactly how alone in this world he was and just how much he was in need of a friend; Hell, he needed an acquaintance. If anything, he deserved to squeeze my hand's poor, poor bones into dust. But I also understood that pity wasn't what he was after either, so I kept up a pokerface and simply returned his favor, applying a zillion pounds per square inch of knuckle-busting pressure as well. His pokerface was decidedly better than mine.

...It was the longest handshake I'd ever taken part in, seriously.

“Alright, I think I just might be able to trust you.” I sighed begrudgingly.

A smile brightened the ancient man's face, if only a little, as he replied, “Oh really? I was starting to wonder if I would ever get a word in edgewise without being shot at first.”

Scarlet embarrassment crossed my face as I said, “It's been a long day, so don't tempt me.”

And it had been. In fact, it had been a long, long, LONG day; probably the longest day I'd ever seen, then multiplied by a thousand. This conversation started off on the wrong foot and quickly became lighthearted, though it would have to become gravely serious again eventually. As much as I'd liked to have sat there and laughed the day away with a new friend, this train ride wouldn't last forever and my destination was almost certain to be an uninviting and unfriendly one. There was just too much that I didn't know and too much that he did know; I had no choice but to veer our little chat back towards the darker streets of doom and gloom. However, being the nice guy that I am, I decided to break the ice with a less powerful question; putting off all of the heavy talk involving life and death for a few more minutes.

I turned towards the prophet and asked, “Kiev, do you mind if I ask a question?”

“Not at all.” answered Kiev; his voice still resonating with a slight chuckle. Clearly he'd never REALLY laughed before, because it was a little hard for him to stop. “I am here to serve and assist those that the gods enlist. What do you wish to know?”

“I shot you earlier, didn't I?” I said with a slight stutter. I was a little worried, actually. It had been nearly a quarter of an hour ago. “Are you alright?”

Kiev said nothing and simply unbuttoned his overshirt. Underneath the thin layer of fabric was a bulge of what I had earlier assumed to be fat, though had no real reason to assume otherwise at the time. Upon opening the shirt up, I spotted the distinct pattern of ceramic plates overlapping other ceramic plates, an effective method used in the weaving of bulletproof and blast proof body armor. It was a new design of armor called Dragon Scales, invented only months ago and put to mass use during Kanto's recent war with Orre. Well, duh, no wonder he was completely unharmed. My freakishly big pistol, as scary as it is, probably didn't even so much as tickle him.

“Curious about anything else, Detective?” mused the Slavic behemoth with a grin. I'm glad I didn't hurt him, but dammit, he was mocking me. Maybe I should have aimed higher.

Mulling it over in my mind, I replied, “Yes, actually, but don't blame me for ruining this wonderfully positive atmosphere, alright?”

I thought hard about what Kiev had said and considered all of the possibilities. I had been selfish and angry and arrogant earlier, accusing him of abandoning us during our time of need. Sure, he did in fact abandon us; that was true. But if what he said was true as well, then could I ever manage to blame him? It's an enormous world and there's bound to be a few more people out there who didn't go completely bonkers and start murdering randomly. Even more ponderous, after learning more about the man, I wondered if I could even blame him at all, even had much of it been his fault. From the sound of things, his life had been a helluva lot harder than anyone else's, and that's putting a massive emphasis on 'HELLUVA'. Fighting a losing battle for more than a century; that's not something I'm sure I could do without seriously considering suicide.

I wonder how many times he's considered a nice, friendly noose?

“Kiev, when you left us back in Saffron, you went to someone else's aid, didn't you? You went to help some other sap in need?” I inquired as best and respectfully as I could. “Who?”

Kiev's expression lost some of its warmth, but not all of it. At the very least, he knew that I no longer meant him any harm.

“When I left you back at the station, there were indeed other matters that I had to attend to.” he replied. “There were others that needed saving; three children.”

Wait, hold the phone! Children? Oh fuck, I knew it'd be something like that; something heroic. Well, it looks like it's settled then; I couldn't hate him, no matter how hard I tried or how much alcohol I drank before trying to make the decision. I'd have ditched my sorry ass too, if it had meant rescuing some helpless children from a mob of bloodthirsty people-gone-monster.

But then something else came to mind; something that sparked the tiny flame of hope within my soul. And just trust me when I tell you that it hadn't been lit in a seriously long time. If some children had survived this whole ordeal, then maybe the planet had a chance after all.

“In fact, this is the very matter that I came to speak with you about.” continued the giant's explanation. “I have a theory of sorts that I would like to brainstorm with you; a hypothesis involving the 'survivors' and how they were able to 'survive'.”

“What do you mean.” I inquired with a confused scratch of the head.

Kiev's eyes grew sharp and his voice gained an edge of importance as he said, “What would you say if I were to tell that your friend, the Blastoise, and all those like him, were destined to survive Lucius's massive attack on this world's unprotected minds?”

Slightly perplexed, I thought about the question for a moment and then retorted, “I'd ask you what you meant by 'all those like him'. Is Ed special or something? On that note, was Will special?”

“Indeed.” explained Kiev as he pulled a small notebook from his pants pocket and waved it vaguely in my direction. Though there were relatively few pages, the writing that filled brim each page so small and compacted that it could have easily been a dictionary's worth of text. “From what I know thus far, those who still possess 'The Gift', the ability to utilize the powers and abilities that once came natural to all people, are the ones blessed with the strength to resist Lucius's corruption. But I must tell you; during my travels, I have seen very few who can still freely command their ancestor's bequeathed talents, and few still who have such powers but no control over them whatsoever. It seems that mankind's blood has thinned over these long years and been strained free of its former strength and glory.” Kiev's tone changed and became somewhat approving and impressed. “You friend, Edward Witherspoon, displayed a level of power that is seldom seen; even compared to some modern weapons of war, the attack that he managed to unleash was shockingly intense and highly devastating. If he were to learn how to control that power and sharpen it into a finely tuned attack rather than expend exponentially more energy than needed, then he might likely be able to wield it more that five times during one battle; if trained to do so, anyway.”

I thought back on the crowd of frenzied, rioting monsters that Ed had turned to dust. It happened so quick and so fast; they were just suddenly gone and replaced by an enormous, smoking burn mark. If he could have done that five times without exhausting himself and passing out, we could probably clear out an entire city full of those things; potentially saving the lives of others that remain trapped in their houses, on the roofs of office buildings, and so on.

“And beyond those in possession of The Gift, there are yet more that have proven resistant to Lucius's control.” added Kiev as he continued to flip through page after page. I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't even telling me what he was reading; that he was simply telling me everything in order of importance. “Men and women that are strong of mind and stout of heart seem capable of retaining control over themselves as well. People who are tenaciously determined to live, who have the will to fight against overwhelming odds, and who can bare the burden of heroism; willpower seems key as well and perfectly fit for locking Lucius out of one's mind.”

Pondering that as well, I inquired, “Do you think that Will had some kind of secret power?”

“Yes, I can only assume that the young man had some sort of hidden talent.” answered the gray grizzly bear as he flipped through the notebook with his thumb; his tone very matter-of-fact. “I say this with no intent of disrespecting him, but the boy seemed very easily frightened when I had the pleasure of meeting him. Regardless of how well he may have performed in battle prior to his... his 'defeat', I cannot say that I believe courage or bravery had any effect or part in his immunity towards Lucius's mental magic. In my professional opinion, I find it highly more likely that he was in possession of The Gift and his powers had simply yet to manifest noticeably for him. Sadly, with that said, if he did in fact possess an ancestral power of some kind or another, we shall never know.”

As harsh as his words were, they were delivered in a very businesslike tone, thus depicting Kiev's confidence in his opinion. Perhaps Will wasn't the coward we thought he was; perhaps he was far more courageous than we knew; perhaps he hadn't any secret abilities or ancient bloodline powers at all. Maybe he was just a normal guy who managed to resist becoming a monster. But all the same, we'll still never know; we'll never get to know just what kind of man Will was. And for that crime against him, I planned to kill Lucius in cold blood; sadistically enjoying each and every second of his death.

And I planned to use Will's gun to do it. His standard issue .380 caliber Sig P232 Stainless would get the last laugh.

“Ah, yes, I've taken the liberty of naming those that Lucius has tainted and twisted; the 'Cursed'.” stated Kiev as though he'd remembered something that had been nagging him for a long time. “Though I'm not certain that such knowledge will be of any real use to you, I find it easier to think about and remember those poor souls in a victimized context; one that does not label them as mere 'psychotics' or simply as 'monsters'.”

Note to self; do not tell Kiev all the names and descriptions that you've used to refer to the Cursed.

Chewing on a couple of other thoughts, I started to say, “Oh, I guess I've got another questi~

A sharp stinging sensation abruptly killed whatever thought I had been in the process of voicing, forcing me to quickly turn my head around and peer through the engine's bulletproof Plexiglas windscreen. The sensation was similar and yet also dissimilar to the crackling energies that had whirled and gathered around Ed hours earlier. The sensation was similar in that the sheer forces that I felt were almost palpably violent; it was dissimilar in that their level of magnitude and strength at least sextupled anything the former police chief could ever hope to accomplish. Something was stirring in the distance, something ominous and mighty, something that merited the attention of all who could feel the soul-crushing pressure of its presence. After a few dubious seconds I looked over to Kiev, wondering if he'd felt the same forces pressing down hard upon all of his senses. Eons ahead of me, the large man was already standing and preparing to walk out the door; his ears twitching and perked to alert attention. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that we could see; all that lay before us were more bridge, more horizon, and even more ocean.

“A maelstrom brews, Detective; I must take my leave.” spoke Kiev solemnly. His thick accent and serious tone gave the words an air of extreme importance, like the climactic lines delivered by a cinema hero just before the movie's final epic battle.

He really WAS needed elsewhere.

I smiled weakly and shrugged, relenting with a expression of understanding. He smiled back, albeit a nervous smile as well, knowing that I no longer blamed him for his mystical appearing and disappearing act. It was something that he had to do; no questions asked. I felt sorry for him, to be sure, and REALLY sorry for myself; that upon his departure I would be losing such a powerful ally. I mean, really, having a guy around who can pluck bullets out of the air like fresh mulberries could certainly have its uses, but I now realized that he had an entire planet of people to protect; not just me. So I shook hands with him again and tagged along as he exited the control room via the outside access door. The door opened to a small platform on the starboard side of the front of the train, just a few feet above the speeding tracks that guided the massive vehicle. Kiev paced back and forth for a moment, despite the furious winds that ravaged his hair and unbuttoned shirt, and then simply jumped off of the starboard side and into the glistening sea. Shocked, I ran to the side and clutched the railing as I looked over, though already thousands of feet away from where he would have splashed down.

In that brief instant, he was gone; plain and simple. Ed and I were on our own again.

“Until our next rendezvous, Detective.” echoed a disembodied voice from either the sky or inside my own head. “As one particularly zealous crusader once said; may the stars shine down upon you until the end of your journey.”

“Yeah, see you around, you magical motherfuck.” I sighed; mostly to myself.

For fear of being blown away by the 200 plus mile an hour winds, I shut the door and turned to make my way towards the caboose and resume my original plans, finding and gluttonously devouring some food and drink; and to think that I'd almost forgotten. So imagine my surprise when the first thing I see upon turning around is former Police Chief turned laser shooting superhero, Edward Witherspoon; his arms crossed in an expression of impatience. Apparently, he'd been waiting just beyond the courtesy curtain for a good long while; probably drumming his fingers out of boredom; most likely listening in on a conversation or two as well.

“I almost ran in and shot him.” Ed stated; an irritated grumble composing most of the statement. “Or should I say, I almost ran in and almost tried to shoot him.”

“Yeah, it wouldn't have worked out.” I smirked with a shrug of my shoulders. I'm shrugging way too much these days. “Nothing against your skills with a firearm, but he's just not as easy a target as he looks.”

“That's what I hear.” snorted the turtle; a laugh in his case. “The first shot woke me up and I arrived in time to hear you preparing for another salvo.”

With a musing smile I inquired, “Why didn't you interrupt?”

“Well, when I arrived, what I heard mostly made you out to be the bad guy, not the other way around.” said Ed; unamused with my adorably mocking smile and sarcasm. “Sounded to me like he was gonna break down and cry; fall apart at the seams. And I really didn't expect the other two shots. You're just lucky that I took what you said earlier to heart; that the man had powers I couldn't comprehend. I figured that I'd have been getting in the way if I ran in with guns blazing; that he was testing you or something, seeing if you'd even try to shoot him at all.”

“Nah, nothing as grandiose as a test of my moral purity or anything.” I admitted embarrassingly. “My nerves were a little hot and I just jumped the gun on him because of some... some unresolved issues and an excess of unmanaged anger. Though I guess it was for the best that you didn't charge in like the fucking cavalry, spooking him any more than he already was; I kind of shook him up a little and I'm regretting it now. I said a lot of nasty stuff and blamed him for all of it, and he didn't deserve a damn bit of it either.”

“Well, what's done is done, right?” said Ed as he walked over and slapped me hard on the back. “Besides, it all worked out in our favor, more or less.” Lighting a cigarette, Ed's expression became hard and stern. “Lucius Miaulez Deux; the name of the man that's behind all of this, huh? And the Cursed; I'll give the fat man this much, he certainly knows how to pick out one helluva scary title. Makes it all sound like some kind of a fantasy novel; like the legions of Hell rising up from the cracks in the ground and swarming the land.”

With a snicker, I replied, “Then I guess we're Heaven's paladins, sent to purge the land of all evil, right?”

Ed sent me a glare and retorted, “I've had priests incarcerated, had premarital sex too many times to count, and am currently twice divorced; I don't think Heaven plans on employing me any time soon.”

“Hmmm, you wanna know what I think?” I questioned; lifting my eyebrows.

“Alright, what's that?” he replied, humoring me.

I made a gesture of scratching lightly at my stomach and said, “I think it's time to eat.”

Ed rolled his eyes and grunted heartily, “I think I can get behind a plan like that. Yeah, let's eat.”

We chatted and cracked jokes as we made our way towards the back of the train, towards the vending machines and coffee maker; the Holy Grail. It was probably going to be our last meal, really, considering what was most likely waiting for us on the other side of this massive bridge. So we put on our best smiles and tried REALLY hard to ignore all of the possible future outcomes, all of the bad endings to this bedtime story. And on top of that, three cars from the caboose and we had to focus our attention away from something else as well, something tangible and visibly depressing that needed no extra assistance from our imaginations. The only obstacle that stood between us and the small, substandard kitchen lay motionless on the floor; his arms folded and eyes now eternally closed; the flame that had once flickered at the tip of his tail having long since been snuffed out. We crept past Will's body as though we were afraid of waking the small salamander from some kind of deep sleep, almost tiptoeing by like children trying to sneak snacks from the refrigerator at night.

“I wish I had my trumpet with me.” stated Ed suddenly.

“You play the trumpet?” I questioned as I removed the front casing of a vending machine, thus revealing all of the treats within.

“Yeah; since I was a kid.” answered the shelled reptile; pouring himself a cup of steaming hot coffee. “I wasn't ever very good, but I was good enough to play taps at least. I used that piece of brass to bury a lot of good men; more than a dozen.”

“I'm sorry.” I muttered in response.

Ed sipped on his cup and sighed, “Don't be. You didn't kill an of 'em. And you didn't kill Will either.”

“It sure as Hell feels like I did.” I said solemnly. For some reason, I suddenly felt very cold.

“And it always will.” remarked the blue turtle as he took another sip. “I feel like I let him down too; like I'm the one who shot him in the neck. That's just what happens when you watch somebody die. You either blame somebody else or you blame yourself. The selfish and arrogant tend to place the blame and feign innocence, like they weren't even aware of what happened; just a bystander and not even remotely involved. The jaded and self-loathing tend to blame themselves, mostly because they hate themselves. That's just the way the world works.”

I thought about that for a moment, Ed's glass-half-empty way of thinking, and replied, “Do you hate yourself?”

“Absolutely.” answered my former superior immediately; covering his face with one scaly hand. He didn't hesitate at all.

We sat and ate in a mournful silence for another hour and a half until the sudden screeching sound of halted steel wheels on steel tracks announced that the pneumatic breaks had kicked in; that we'd arrived at our destination. Using a couple of backpacks, we snatched up what remaining food we'd yet to inhale and prepared to exit the locomotive. Just before the final farewell, I took one last trip to the control room and consulted the complicated dictionary-sized manual. Using the book's vague diagrams and instructions, I switched the train's computer to unassisted autopilot and set the departure timer for ten minutes. Ten minutes later, Ed and I stood outside and tearfully saluted as the enormous vehicle slowly lurched in reverse, returning from whence it came, and carrying with it the body of our deceased comrade. With its minuscule remaining amount of fuel, the train would likely make it to the middle of the bridge and then gradually roll to stop; eventually being overcome by the high tide of an ocean storm. Will would be taken in and embraced by the seas, by the ever expanding horizon of cerulean blue; Will would receive a sailor's funeral.

But at least it was a funeral at all.