Episode One: The New Regime Car

The engine enjoyed its last fleeting seconds of peaceful blissfulness in relative silence. The hum of the large green power source for the Train was one of the only things able to pierce through the thick air of the car. Its inhabitants were far from awake. It seemed to be very early in the morning, and the landscape of the ruined land that lay outside had just begun to be touched by the hints of sunrise.

Out of the three entities in the room there was only one human. An elderly woman, who sat slumped over in an old recliner retrieved from some far-off car miles down the line. She wore an unzipped black jacket tied around her waist, and a thin brown tank top over her upper body, on which her loose silver hair pooled upon. One of her arms had been slung over the arm of the chair, reflecting its sickly green shade around the enclosed space of the car. Her legs were had been draped with black bulky cargo pants and her feet enclosed by thick black combat boots, resting on an ottoman of equal quality with the recliner. Her unmarked arm loosely clutched a long steel pole, propped up against the walls of the engine. She was still asleep and would've most likely been for the next couple hours.

Situated not far from the slumbering elder was a spindly mass of metal tubes massed together in the corner of the car. The lights in its eyes were extinguished, signaling the deactivation of the unit for the moment. Even in deactivation the monster had a sense of dread hanging around it, something strange that would cause even the bravest warrior to quake in their boots. Its appearance did little to help its case. A sleek silver mask covered the inner workings of the machinery that powered the robotic creature. It looked as if it was intended to appear humanlike, but came off as even more automatic and mechanical. From underneath stretched an immeasurable number of metal tentacles, all at the moment bolstering the weight of the monster. As frightening as it was at rest, it had nothing compared to the terror of this million-limbed spider demon clawing its way towards you at alarming speeds. It was, for these reasons, a perfect security drone for the ever-increasing Train.

The third member residing in the car lay inside tightly in a small indention near the front-center of the room. Unlike his dozing companions, the round white ball had no way of "sleeping." His entire function was to ensure the prolongment of the Train's existence, and any less would be considered a failure on his programming. Of course, there were days in which he passed his reigns to the Motherboard in order to participate in whatever mindless activities he wished. Most of the time, however, he sat patiently in his smooth depression. It was part of the reason he kept the woman close by, even after her rash actions. Without the companionship of his former partners, both halves that comprised the ball longed for interaction. All day, they would talk with whoever they could, and when they ran out of people to talk to, they began to talk to one another. It occasionally would happen during the day, but it picked up most often through the night. Eventually the senior woman got fed up enough to order a stop to the incessant chattering between the two personalities of the sphere. Ever since, when the sun passed below the horizon, the spherical conductor spoke to each other through their own consciousness.

Oh, the sun rises on our beautiful little home once again, a cheerful automated voice rang into the other's mechanical equivalent for ears.

Perhaps if you consider 'beautiful' as an abomination of the natural laws, and 'little' as a gargantuan waste of space, of which I would know all too much about. A much more sadistic and pessimistic voice gave its quick retort to his optimistic brother. It was more robotic, similar to the early A.I.'s voices, monotone and with a hint of melancholy.

No doubt the two would've begun an hour-long discussion of the ethics and practicality of their infinite locomotive, if they weren't suddenly interrupted. They felt it before they saw it. Or rather they sensed it, being the head honcho of the Train. The far-off sensation of a car speeding along the top of the Train, careening swiftly towards the engine.

Ooh, perhaps we have new visitors! Maybe they'll be like Ms. Tulip. I miss her. The cheerful half sphere constantly craved new experiences, new acquaintances. If it wasn't prohibited by its programming it would seek out each inhabitant of the Train and tell them the secrets of the universe. At least, the secrets of the Train.

Or maybe its Death himself, finally responding to all the letters I've been sending him. These things do always go better face-to-face. If he could slump, the spherical nihilist would gladly have fallen to the floor. Unfortunately for all of them, however, Sad-One had hit the nail pretty close to the head. Whoever stood atop their cars, calculating their imminent arrival had no friendly intentions.

The car never fully stopped. Instead of coming to a halt outside of the car currently in production, it crashed right into it, filling the quiet atmosphere with the sounds of shattering steel and splitting metals. The woman shot straight up out of her sleep. She needed only seconds to survey the scene. Green orbs fell out of their pockets above, shattering on the floor of the engine, their bright colors fading. She quickly leveled her staff into position, unsure of the threat that she faced. Across the room, in the corner, the spider-like monster awoke from its slumber as well. Its eyes snapped open, revealing the shivering blue flames that lay inside of them. It cautiously readied its form into a defensive stance, awaiting further instructions from the Conductor. As for him, his two halves simply stared up into the void of the twin cars, now smashed together. They had been in the process of constructing an ocean car, a place of only water as far as the eye could see. Now, the thousands of water orbs came falling down upon them all, like the largest hail in existence. Both sides carried confusion, sorrow, and, most importantly and most potent, fear. Whatever was happening, the outcome couldn't possibly be positive.

Metal rubble from the two cars as well as glass shards from the orbs began to pile near the entrance, creating a mound of debris, stretching up to the skylight hole carved into the engine. Hundreds upon hundreds of faded green orbs cascaded onto the mountain of wreckage, rolling down to the floor. One stayed far enough to connect with the spidery monster, who quickly peered down at it and wrapped a single spindly limb around it, shattering it in its grip. The elderly woman attempted to move closer towards the back of the car, blocking projectile orbs with the edge of her staff.

Suddenly, amongst the rain of ruins, a sleek figure fell down onto the small hill of wreckage. It hid through the thick dust created by the plummeting rubble of steel and glass. The tentacled monster quickly went on alert, small black cannons protruding from the burning blue pits in its eyeholes. The senior readied her weapon into defensive positions, her entire body tensed up, her eyes narrowed with both determination and nervosity. The silhouette spun wildly around on top of the pile, attempting to get its bearings. Its shadowy oval head swiveled around before laying its eyes in the direction of the Conductor and his elderly bodyguard. The dark figure bounded down the steep sides of the small mountain as quickly as it could before sprinting towards the front of the engine.

"Erreur, Erreur, Oh, I've made a terrible mistake!" The voice shot through the hazy clouds of dust, filling the room with a sense of tense alarm. It was extremely worried, and it spoke with an evident French accent.

The Cat scurried from inside the shield of dust enclosed around the mound of wreckage. Shame. Embarrassment to yourself. Too prideful, too sure. Where did it get you this time?

Her mind continued to pester herself with questions she would most likely not be able to answer, at least in the foreseeable future, she had committed a very serious accident, and it was up to her to try and fix it.

"Run, we all need to get out of here, Immediatement!"

The Cat had made it off the clouds, closing in on the Conductor and the old woman. The silver faced monster turned to glance at the approaching creature. The Cat was all too well known to the Steward and its data resources. While the Cat most likely had no intent of harm, the monster took no chances, quickly pushing itself off the wall with its mass of spindly limbs and apprehending the French feline.

"Cat? You must have the best excuse I've ever heard to make up for this," the senior spoke sternly to the shifty Cat, now wiggling meters off of the ground, held by the arms of the Steward. The elder spoke with authority, as well as a hint of annoyance. She spoke with a strong accent as well, a very hard central London type of dialect. She raised her pole to be level with the Cat's head, threatening any sort of escape attempt.

The cat squirmed fruitlessly in the clutches of the Steward. Her eyes darted all around, assessing the situation she had found herself literally dropped into.

"We...have no time for this pointlessness Amelia!" The Cat exclaimed between grunts of her struggle. "He'll be here any moment!" She attempted to turn her head behind her, but her line of vision had been blocked by the hundreds of the tube-like arms adorning the Steward.

"Slow your words Cat. Who's coming?" Amelia faltered, confused by the Cat's remarks. She spoke with desperate urgency, contradicting the collected and confident persona she portrayed herself as whenever Amelia was forced to interact with her.

"Please, there will be plenty of time to explain in the future, but we need to leave immediately," The Cat said through labored breaths. She sounded as if she had been running for a while, much longer than the few meters she crossed to meet with the Conductor.

"I'm so glad you stopped to chat Miss Cat," the happier side of the Conductor greeted the entrapped Cat. "Thanks for destroying our car or whatever…" the negative side added, his monotone voice making it easy to find hints of bitterness in his sarcastic nature.

"Please!" the Cat exclaimed. "If we don't act now, we may very well have another 'Amelia' situation on our hands." As it would be, Amelia herself was the first to understand. Of course, such is the course of life, those who've committed an act would be the first to recognize that act being done. She sprinted up and around the Steward, gazing up into the skylight created by the crashed cars.

"One, release the Cat at once," Amelia spoke to the Conductor, still staring up at the roof.

"Okie-Dokie!" the sphere responded cheerfully before emitting a quick series of high-pitched blips, instructing the Steward to drop the Cat. In response, the monster unfurled its metal tentacles from around the shirt-wearing feline, who obviously landed on her feet. She raced to the side of Amelia joining her gaze up towards the crash scene.

"Perhaps he was injured in the crash...or worse," the Cat pondered to no one in particular, her words conflicting with the hopeful tone she gave with them. "It doesn't matter much now; we need to evacuate as soon as possible. Now would be le plus préférable." She began to make her way back towards the Conductor, cursing herself for her arrogance. Too easy to persuade. To fool. Now we're all paying the price.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught Amelia's eye. A large black shadow appeared to stand at the rim of the skylight before a large piece of rubble took its place, collapsing into the mountain of debris below it. When Amelia looked again, she saw nothing.

"One, I need you to-" Amelia was going to ask the Conductor for a quick perimeter search around the engine, graciously provided by the Steward, when the large shadowy figure dropped onto the pile of wreckage. The Cat turned at the gasp Amelia emitted and felt a heavy feeling of anxiety spread from the shadow through the whole car.

"He's here," the Cat spoke softly, lowering her head to the floor like a scared animal. Amelia paused to look back at the Cat before fixating her gaze upon the shadow. She again lowered her staff, aiming it directly at the figure. The figure itself seemed to stand and orient itself. A long dark arm raised itself and swatted away the dust covering it.

"Identify yourself!" The robotic voice of the Steward shouted at the figure, the clanking of gears accompanying it. The figure turned to look in the direction of the Steward's voice before it began to walk closer towards them. There was no sound other than the deep breathing of Amelia and the Cat, along with the heavy footsteps created by the shadowy figure.

"Please, please, won't you all just settle down?" The figure emerged from the smoke and dust, his confident voice echoing in the small confines of the engine. He wore black dress shoes on his feet and stiff blue pants upon his legs. His torso was adorned with a faded blue uniform, and the glint of gold on his left breast pocket gave indications of law enforcement, whether it was legitimate or not. It was hard to tell due to the constant flapping of his brown leather trench coat, browned and patched in various places. His skin was blotchy, many parts reddened by exposure to intense sunlight. His face gave him a very confident and intimidating aura. He had a very thick brown beard, left ragged and dirty from the effects and little upkeep. His nose was peeling, and looked raw with severe redness, and his hair had grown significantly longer than socially acceptable, alluding to the very long time he may have been trapped on the Train. His eyes were extra creepy, however, wider than normal, crinkled around the corners where it and his unnaturally large smile met. The pupils were rather small in the whites of his eyes, darting from side to side, giving off a very strong insanity vibe. The longer you looked at him, the weirder things got. He clenched his gloved hands fiercely, one fingerless, showing his dirty digits and fingernails, making him look very much like a homeless person, along with his unkempt beard and shifty eyes. Perhaps he would look just like any other person, comical even, but there was something very off about him. If you looked even closer you would spot the curved silver sickles hanging from either belt loop on both sides of his body. The chipped police scanner tightly grasped in his right hand. The sinister metal plate clutched in his left.

"Halt passenger! You are in direct violation of the Train's natural progression procedures. Return to your seat!" The shrill voice of the Steward broke the air between the two sides.

"Hello new friend! What's your name?" the Conductor happily asked, blissfully unaware of the threat the man posed.

"I'm sorry little robot, but I don't believe any of us are 'friends' here," the man replied, shrugging his arms at the question. "As for my name, well, I keep that close to my heart, and my heart alone unfortunately. You may not need it, but for posterity's sake, I'd like you to call me, the Officer, if you could?" The haggard man continued, taking a few small steps towards the group. The Cat hissed in response, backing away into the panel that housed One-One.

"Passenger Andrew Kingston, return to your seat or face punishment!" The Steward shouted forcefully at him, caring little for his opinions on giving out his name. Andrew himself looked staggered. His confident smile faltered, if only for a second.

"Immune to personal boundaries, huh monster? I suppose I can understand, of course."

"So, what are you even doing here, Officer?" the sadistic side of the Conductor asked Andrew. "Aside from totally blowing up our car."

Andrew's wide smile grew larger, turning into a sickening laugh which left him kneeling on the ground, holding his sides with his arms. Amelia shared a nervous glance back the Cat who returned with a fearful look of her own.

"You know what ball? That's just the question I was hoping you would ask!" Andrew took his awkward metal plate he held in his left hand and flung it forward, sliding under the mass of the Steward's metal limbs, right up to under One-One. When it connected with the panel a bright green light erupted in the middle, shorting out the Conductor and the vertical lights positioned next to him. Tendrils of green electricity arced up and around the now inactive sphere. The Cat reacted instantly, quickly backing away from the flashing plate. The Steward, in retaliation, flung itself forward, intent on apprehending Andrew. Unfortunately for the spidery monster, Andrew was prepared. He quickly raised the scanner from his right hand up to his mouth, shouting a quick command. It was most likely, stop, or deactivate, but it came out as loud, sharp noises that Amelia could only recognize as the noises she used to control the Steward during her brief time as conductor, or the noises One-One currently used. They had never changed methods, partially because of increased security, but mostly due to the complete and utter hopefulness one half of the Conductor held. Nevertheless, the Steward froze, tentacles mere feet from intercepting the confident figure of Andrew Kingston. The scene had quickly taken a turn for the absolute worse. It reminded Amelia of the entrance she had made, just a bit more coordinated.

"Why are you doing this!" the elderly woman shouted at Andrew. He began to casually walk around the Steward, admiring the hardware, the technology that it was made with.

"Please calm yourself, Amelia, was it? I'd imagine you'd be the first to understand. Something along the lines of, 'he who controls the Train, controls everything?'" Andrew's left hand slid down into his pockets, grasping the handle of one of his sickles. Amelia trained the tip of her staff on Andrew's chest.

"If you know who I am, then you know how this will end. Power corrupts, and corruption ultimately leads to failure, like it did for me, and like it would do for you. Leave now, or face the consequences," she warned Andrew. They inched closer to each other, slowly closing the gap between the two. Andrew grasped the sickle, clinking it on each limb of the Steward as he moved forward, each hit reverberating around the engine. They were about half a football field from each other now, shrinking the distance ever so slightly.

"Your failures are your own Amelia. I intend to learn from your mistakes, the compassion you showed to the ball, your ineptitude to beat a mere child., I shall close the loose ends, as you never did. However, I do recognize the ingenuity you possess. Something about division and unity? I suppose if Lincoln said it it must be true, right?" He continued to clink his way down the engine, pointing his scanner at Amelia as he talked. The wind blew in from the skylight, and they had to shout their words to communicate over the noise. His eyes continued to drift away from Amelia, then suddenly snap back as if lost in thought.

"I-I don't understand!" Amelia shouted in confusion. She looked behind her, following Andrew's gaze. The Cat had kicked the electric plate away from the panel and was attempting to pull the Conductor out of his insert with little success. Her thumbless paws scraped uselessly at the smooth sphere. When Amelia looked back Andrew had drastically closed the gap. He stood only meters away, pointing the scanner directly at her.

"We are both geniuses Amelia. Show me the secrets of this Train, and I will do everything I can to bring back your husband," Andrew dropped the scanner, letting it dangle from his trench coat. He extended his free hand out to Amelia, offering his deal. Amelia herself was shaken. For more than thirty years she had attempted to revive Alrick in the form of a super sentient A.I. but could never succeed. But Andrew's offer seemed intangibly amazing, and a quick look into his eyes showed his true intentions. They continued to dart from Amelia to directly behind her, focusing on the disabled Conductor. His smile seemed ingenuine, and beads of sweat began to run down his forehead. He had no intention of helping her, she was just another opponent to him. Amelia looked down at the ground, pretending to contemplate the deal.

"You know something Mr. Kingston?" Amelia raised her head and narrowed her eyes at Andrew. "You're an awful liar." She lept towards Andrew, thrusting her staff at his gut. He was taken off guard and barely managed to parry the attack with his sickle. His right hand went for the scanner, most likely to call the Steward for backup, but Amelia swung the pole at his arm, causing Andrew to cry in pain. His left arm raised the sickle and sliced through the air, aiming for Amelia's legs, but her staff caught the weapon on the curve and forced it out his hand, the sickled skittering across the engine's floor. Andrew, unarmed, cautiously backed away from Amelia.

"What was that about the turntables?" Andrew asked sheepishly, attempting to portray as helpless of an image as he could. Amelia forced them both backwards, again crossing paths with the now inactive Steward.

"What exactly did you do to One, Mr. Kingston?" Amelia demanded.

"A simple E.M.P. Amelia, nothing too harmful. Of course, I have my plans for him, as I'm sure you did," Andrew answered with confidence. "Although, to be honest, I'd be more worried about myself if I were you." His left hand rose up a few feet away from Amelia's staff as his right hand slid stealthily under his coat, unseen from Amelia.

"I'll take that into consideration," Amelia launched her staff at Andrew's face, but he caught it with his second sickle, pulled from his left belt loop. He broke away and sliced down in an arc, connecting with the center of her pole. Sparks flew from the impact and Amelia had to take a step back to brace herself. Andrew lifted his right foot and kicked Amelia in her unblocked chest sending her sprawling on the floor.

"Forgive me Amelia," Andrew said, briskly walking towards her beaten figure. "But I have much more important things to attend to." Amelia struggled to get up from the floor, but she was far too old and at a large disadvantage when it came to the strong physique of the former policeman. She saw his feet appear under her face through the blurry spots dancing along her vision. He knelt down and lifted the chin of Amelia to look into her eyes.

"Perhaps you should take this as a lesson. A warning, perhaps?" His face came down just mere inches from hers. "Don't mess with me. OK?" He began with a rather sinister tone, one that portrayed him much more as an intimidating persona, but he ended with a slight smile, giving Amelia conflicting feelings about the Officer's true intentions.

He let her go, causing her to collapse back onto the floor. He stood back up and began to walk over to the last remaining adversary.

"I should probably thank you Cat. All this, all the power, the potential, all for some VHS tape? Yes, gratitude would be most appropriate. Unfortunately, you may have noticed that I'm not exactly the most 'appropriate' person," Andrew spoke to the Cat, now cowering beneath the panel containing One-One. Andrew had diverted in his path to scoop up his lost sickle. Amelia continued to writhe behind them both, clinging to the Steward in a desperate attempt to balance herself.

"But I shall give you my advice. Never let it be said that I'm unfair." Andrew turned his head to meet the Cat's frightful gaze. "Run far away from here. Run back to your shabby little car, play with your little knick-knacks, and leave me alone. If you do all that, may we never meet again," the Officer advised the fearful feline. He walked over to the panel, causing the Cat to skitter away to the side. He took off his right glove and placed his bare hand around the inactive Conductor.

"Welcome to the new age of this cursed prison, ball. I hope you realize you've brought this onto yourself., Andrew shouted, his voice showing true emotion. "You couldn't protect yourself from me, and you couldn't protect my son from himself. So, please forgive me if I have little grief for what I am about to do," Andrew whispered into the dead slot across One-One. He rested his forehead on the smooth surface of the Conductor for a few seconds, before he tightly grasped the exposed ball, tugging at it with all his strength. After a few tense seconds, the inactive sphere was wrenched from the panel, surrounded by waves of bright green electricity.

"No!" Amelia cried out, now leaning against the static body of the Steward. Andrew turned and locked eyes with the staggering form of Amelia. He curled his lips into a wicked smile. "Glory to he who has the power!" Andrew shouted to make himself be heard over the wind. He lifted the unresponsive sphere high above his head, and then threw it onto the floor.

The ball split into two parts upon impact, with each side sustaining slight chips or damage. One side slid across the floor towards the ratty chair and bed Amelia routinely slept in. The other side had little movement, mainly due to the significantly more damage it received. Amelia felt as if she had suddenly gone into shock. In just a few short minutes her life had been flipped upside-down, not to mention the flip she had faced just a few short months earlier. Andrew glowed with pure satisfaction. He pointed the sickle he held in his left hand at Amelia, most likely about to give a grand speech when he was suddenly interrupted and attacked. The Cat lept from the shadows and pounced onto the head and face of the Officer, clawing and yowling with rabid intensity. He yelped with surprise, stumbling blindly behind him. His hands desperately tried to rid his face of the furry mass scrambling around it, with little success.

Amelia stood motionless, watching the scuffle unfold right before her. After a few seconds, she was about to join the Cat in the fight when her chest panged the pain left from her last altercation with him. Even without the metal beast Amelia leaned against assisting the Officer, she doubted her wounded self and the small but vicious form of the Cat could overcome the strength he possessed. She made a snap decision and limped as fast as she could towards the broken piece on her right, near her living area.

Meanwhile, Andrew had begun to wildly strike his own face in an attempt to scare the Cat away, to no avail. He crashed into the panel and then shook his head violently, gasping for air and cursing the feline running across his face. The Cat herself expertly weaved through the flailing limbs of the Officer.

Amelia had scooped up all of the remains she could into a small burlap sack, slinging it over her shoulder. She glanced back at the skirmish between the Cat and Andrew. He was working his way sideways across the panel, actively moving away from the rest of the broken Conductor. Taking a risk, Amelia slowly moved towards the last remaining pieces scattered around the front of the panel.

Andrew's face and arms were already covered with red scratches, his eyes truly expressing his pure rage, but only when they were visible. His sickles had been dropped somewhere in front of the panel, but he doubted he would even consider using it. Too dangerous to be swinging the blade at his own head. Through glimpses he viewed Amelia making her way around the engine, collecting the pieces that made up the Conductor.

One thing at a time, Andrew. He had trouble even focusing on that simple thought, the sheer pain and annoyance the Cat was causing was extremely potent.

It took a few seconds for Amelia to gather the rest of One-One, the pieces were much more damaged and spread out. She cringed inwardly every time she placed a piece in the sack. Her only hopes were that there must be some system in place to reverse the damage, or some poor soul trapped on the Train that could help repair the not-so-spherical robot. After she had finished, she slowly rose to her feet, careful to be wary of the pains in her chest. When Amelia had reached the mound of rubble positioned underneath the large skylight she turned around and gave a loud cry.

"We're leaving Cat!" She was surprised on how anguished her voice sounded. The Cat stopped in her scurrying, giving Andrew a chance to grab hold of her, flinging the feline to the ground, who again landed on her feet. Without giving a look back at the Officer, the Cat sprinted towards Amelia and the pile. Andrew knelt next to the panel, leaning his back on it for support. His face had been badly scratched, along with his hands and forearms. Patches of his beard had been clawed out, making him look even more homely. He took a few long sighs before glancing up at Amelia and the Cat. His eyes closed, begging for rest. When he opened them again, Amelia and the Cat were gone.

They had climbed out of the engine using the newly made mountain of debris. They raced against the direction of the Train, carefully maneuvering around mounds of wreckage and glass. The Train shuddered suddenly, and waves of invisible energy cascaded over Amelia and the Cat, sending the hair on the back of their necks straight up. It took several minutes to scale a car, descend down, and do the same thing over and over again. As they made their way up, over, down, and across different cars, Amelia felt the insanely large number traveling up her arm flickering with the bright green light that it carried with each change. She wasn't sure in what direction she was traveling, down or up, and it didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered was getting as far away from Andrew as possible. It had been nearly an hour, and they had barely made it over a dozen cars. Amelia and the Cat both silently prayed the Officer had been wounded enough to stay back for a while. But neither of them believed it would happen.

The aura around the Train began to tear, and bits of dark blue sky and starlight filtered in the rips of reality. Amelia had experienced this only once. It could only mean the Train was arriving at another stop. Another unlucky passenger to feed the belly of the machine. They had made it on top of the thirteenth car when a series of high-pitched beeps shattered Amelia out of her thoughts.

Amidst the ripples in reality, the sprawling figure of the Steward shot down the dozen cars that lay in between them and the engine. Multiple tentacles wrapped themselves around the waist of the Officer, carrying him along the race towards Amelia and the Cat. It took but moments for the monster and its pilot to reach the duo. Amelia felt exhausted beyond description. It was all she could do to unsling the bag containing the Cat along with the pieces of One-One and draw her metal staff. All around them the Train shook turbulently, the dusty orange wasteland being gradually replaced with a snowy forested area. Cracks seemed to spread all around Amelia, surrounding the Train with a greenish hue, filling her peripheral vision with the thick tint of lime.

The Cat sheepishly crawled out of the bag, her protection having to be shed for the moment. She raised her head up, watching the Steward pull itself and Andrew along each train car. She glanced at Amelia who looked especially weak in the face of such a series of disastrous events.

"What should we do?" The Cat questioned, desperately praying Amelia held the answer. If Amelia had a plan though, she didn't share it. She could barely stand straight, formulating anything logical seemed a tad out of her reach at the moment. It didn't matter. Andrew and his monster had arrived.

The Steward gently placed Andrew on the opposite edge of the car where Amelia and the Cat stood, its robotic arms unfurling from around his body. It perched itself high above them, like an owl surveying its prey. Andrew had attempted to patch himself the best he could. Wet cloths and torn bed sheets had been pressed against the wounded areas around his face and arms. One of his hands had lost a glove in the scuffle, the left, and around the ring finger was a lone Band-Aid. Amelia would never know where he had managed to find it.

"We must stop meeting like this Amelia," Andrew chuckled a laugh that held little humor. He held one sickle in his single gloved hand, the other most likely hiding away in the depths of his ratty leather coat. His soft chuckles soon turned into sneers of resentment. As he began to make his way towards the pair more and more patches of Earth blended into the deadlands of wherever the Train chugged its way through. All three paused and observed the intricacy and complexity that surrounded them all.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Andrew shouted over the roaring winds, maintaining his smug and spiteful smile. "And now, it's all mine"

Amelia took a few hesitant steps towards Andrew, prompting an immediate reaction from the renegade Steward. It flashed fiery blue spotlights which trained on the face of Amelia, momentarily blinding her. The lights swirled around the two refugees, reminding Amelia of a wrestling car, something that had evidently taken off after her escape from reality. Andrew continued his slow pace towards the two, looking particularly cheerful. Amelia needed to think of something, quite quickly. Unfortunately for her, her mind was not working at 'quick' standards. So, she needed to increase her time.

"So, what's next Mr. Kingston? What'll you even do with your new 'power,' your new 'authority?'" Amelia yelled as loud as she could over to the man, desperately hoping he'd stop to answer. Luckily for her, he did. It seemed even the Officer couldn't talk and walk. Perhaps he just wanted to monologue, but whatever he did was helping Amelia with each passing second.

Please Amelia, isn't it obvious? I mean, I know how cliché that sounds, but I'd really figure someone of your intelligence would have at least some ideas of what I plan," Andrew gestured emphatically as he talked, punctuating the air with the blade of his sickle at points. Amelia was busy stealing glances at their situation happening around them. A small inkling of an idea began to grow in the center of her mind. She needed a bit more time to work it out however.

"Hunches, Mr. Kingston, I have only hunches. But if you know who I am you must undoubtedly know what I tried to accomplish," Amelia responded, "Most importantly, how I failed." Andrew seemed unfazed by her veiled threats.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped comparing me to yourself, if you would Amelia. In case you haven't heard, the world has changed significantly in the past forty years or so. The Soviet Union doesn't even exist anymore!" Andrew finished with a hearty laugh as if he couldn't fathom the extent of Amelia's ignorance.

The air around them had been engulfed by a storm of energy, frizzing Amelia and the Cat's hair. Permanent rifts had begun to appear, replacing the small cracks that had come and gone before. Amelia was ready to stall long when she was interrupted by the silver faced betrayer settle high above the three occupants.

"Train will soon exhibit sudden deceleration in preparation for a scheduled stop. Everyone should return to his or her seat immediately."

Andrew's laugh immediately died in his throat. He looked frantically over at the Steward, praying he misunderstood its words.

"Sudden what?" he exclaimed. Amelia, on the other hand, came to a quick understanding. She turned around, scooping up the Cat into the bag and running towards the edge of the car's top.

"For the record, I completely abhor this method of travel!" the thick accent of the Cat shouted, partially muffled by the bag's burlap material. Amelia's response was to plant her staff into a diagonal position, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

"Cat, I'm going to need you to do something extremely important for me, alright?" Amelia questioned the feline, who nodded in anticipation. "When the Train arrives at its stop, you're going to need to take this bag," Amelia gestured at the bag the Cat and the Conductor lay in, "and jump off the Train."

The Cat reacted as if Amelia had just begged her to eat a king-sized chocolate bar, her whiskers bristling at the mere suggestion of leaving the Train.

"No, never, there must be some other option," the Cat pleaded to the elderly woman. The Train began to vibrate incessantly now, shuddering under the energy flowing against it. Andrew and his monster were nowhere to be seen, most likely having fled into the car under them, or back into the engine. Amelia briefly reconsidered her plan, but came to the conclusion they'd be back soon enough.

"I'm afraid we don't have enough time to brainstorm Cat."

"You don't even know if it'll work!" the Cat proposed, looking around as if hoping for a miracle.

"But I know it won't work for me. I'm a passenger, Cat. But you aren't. Neither is One-One. Theoretically, both of you should be able to pass back into Earth," Amelia explained, scolding herself for her insanely high number. If only she could go home now. What she wouldn't give to leave, especially in her current situation.

"But…" the Cat desperately looked for any way out. Alas, she was stumped. They were truly stuck between the largest rocks and the hardest of places. Perhaps she could've come up with something, but it was then when the Train had decided to stop.

The rifts and cracks surrounding the Train quick began to splinter, until it swarmed the shaking line of cars. The cracks glowed bright green, increasing in brightness until neither Amelia or the Cat could see. The Train then abruptly came to a halt, the shrieking sound of metal clashing against metal rang all around them, penetrating their eardrums. Amelia's makeshift brace had ensured some safety, and the bag had been stuck in place around it, so the Cat suffered little harm other than immense shift in g-force.

The process ended in just a few short moments, but it felt like eons for the senior and the feline. When it finally ended, Amelia fell to her knees. She tried to blink the spots from her eyes and get a feel of her surroundings as quickly as possible. The Cat passed by her struggling figure, staring out over the Train.

"You really must come see this Amelia," the Cat beckoned, entranced by what she was viewing. The Train had stopped in a woodland area, blanketed with snow. It must have been close to sunrise as light shades of pink shone bright on the horizon. Amelia suddenly felt deep chills from the morning air and quickly pulled on her jacket she had wrapped around her waist, clutching her hands tightly together to preserve as much heat as possible. The wind whipped her silvery hair across her face, something she either didn't notice of didn't care enough to fix. The ground was quite a bit below them, but the ground seemed to have been packed with snow, and Amelia felt sure the Cat could handle the fall if needed. For a few seconds, Amelia began to think about the state of the world. She hadn't seen anything from Earth in over thirty-three years, and judging from Andrew's cocky tone, a lot had changed. Mostly, however, she felt strong sympathy for whoever the Train had stopped for. She knew what they could be going through.

Her thoughts were broken by the far-off sound of machinery. Metal clanking reverberated from about a dozen cars down, most likely from the engine. Amelia needed to make a snap decision, and she needed to make it fast.

"It's do or die Cat. The trees will provide good enough cover. The snow will break your fall. The only question is, are you willing to do it?" Amelia asked the Cat, who was looking more and more nervous with every second. The sound of metal grinding grew louder and more frequent, slowly building the tension in the air. Knowing that Andrew could come back at any time certainly aided the edge the two felt.

"What if something goes wrong? We're not even sure I can survive out there," The Cat murmured quietly.

"What if we stay here? He almost destroyed One. What do you think he'll do to us?" Amelia crept her fear into her stern voice, urging the Cat to take this one choice. The Cat herself was losing her reservations against this option.

"What about you? We both know you'd be doomed here, and like you said, we don't know what he'll do to you," the Cat asked timidly.

"I'd advise you to worry little about me Cat. Whatever happens to me is most likely what I deserve. You should go soon, perhaps immediately," Amelia gave the Cat her parting words of wisdom before hobbling forward in the direction of the engine. "I'll hold the line, as long as I have to."

The Cat cursed herself inwardly for letting herself be pushed into this plan. She looped the bag closed as tightly as possible with her teeth and thumbless paws before inserting the top of the bag in her mouth. When she looked back at Amelia, she was given only a slight nod of approval and goodbye.

Rather than build up her nerve and wait for Andrew to arrive, the Cat ran straight off the top of the car, desperately hoping everything would go as planned. As intelligent and logical the Cat was, sometimes luck and faith were the only things driving her forward. And in this case, luck and faith gave her a break. She fell onto the softly packed snow showing little signs of damage other than shocked bones. The bag was light enough to be dragged across the deep level of powder and, after a few tries, the Cat took her first small steps on Earth. She looked back up at the Train, murmured a faint, "Au revoir," and began to move away from the green locomotive as fast as she could, quickly diving deep into the snow-covered forest.

Amelia stood stoically on top the Train, painfully waiting for the imminent return of the Officer. For a brief minute she considered running, jumping down into one of the cars and waiting out whatever would come. Her morality quickly won out. Her entire stay on the Train had been about running away. Running away from pain, from guilt, from her own self. Running had placed her in this whole mess, and if she was going to do anything, she was going to move forward. So she waited. Of course, it didn't take long. Only minutes after the Cat's departure, the sounds of metal grew louder, closer, extremely quickly. Soon, the bluish tint of the Steward was visible, weaving its way between the cars. It soon arrived at Amelia's location, depositing its package directly in front of her. Andrew shakily stood, looking quite like a fish with legs.

"Beats taking the MTS I suppose," attempting some dry humor in his awkward situation. Amelia had no reaction. It took him a few tries to stand up straight, holding one hand to his back as if to relieve the pain.

"Apologies, but I doubt you'd understand from where you come from. San Diego thing, I would imagine," Andrew took a few tentative steps towards Amelia, cringing with each step. His cuts looked painful, and Amelia couldn't imagine his quick trips to and from the engine had helped much.

"But enough chit chat Amelia," Andrew paused as if noticing something for the first time. "May I ask, I do recall our feline friend being here a moment ago, correct?" He questioned, looking around frantically now, his confident voice trimmed with a nervous edge. He looked up at Amelia after a few seconds of searching the tops of the train cars around them.

"My God, she's taken off with the ball, hasn't she?" Andrew asked incredulously, flabbergasted at this turn of events.

"It'll never work out Mr. Kingston. If you want anything from me, I can give you my advice: Stop trying to run. Fix your problems without," Amelia gestured towards the Steward, looming over them both, "All of this. Please, I'm the only person who could know about this," Amelia pleaded, moreso stalling for time than actually believing she had a chance of persuading the man.

I appreciate your concern Amelia, but so very much has changed out there since you left," Andrew raised a hand out into the forest. The fact the train sat still meant Andrew must've deliberately stalled the Train, or the new potential passenger was having a hard time deciding whether or not to board.

"Why are you here Mr. Kingston? What purpose could you hope to fulfill here that I was not able to complete?" Amelia cocked her head to the left, genuinely curious. Unfortunately for her, it was the wrong question to ask the Officer. His face seemed to cast a shadow over his entire form, and the early morning air flapped his trench coat around his ankles. He suddenly looked like Death Incarnate, a terrifying demon of a man.

"With little respect, I'd prefer not to answer that question. Now, where did you send the Cat, and where did you send the sphere?" His words lacked emotion, and Amelia found herself longing for his smug but cheerful tone he had but moments ago.

Amelia got the feeling that the time for talking was over, training the point of her staff on the head of Andrew. He revealed the hand he had behind his back, and in it was the curved silver blade of one of his sickles. She took a step towards the Officer, but was stopped in her tracks. The Steward had apparently detected something it was searching for and clamped several claws around the pair of adversaries.

"Cat tracks located. Heading east, dragging unidentified flat-bottomed object."

Amelia looked horrified. Her last-ditch effort was quickly becoming unraveled. She could only hope the Cat had gotten far enough to avoid detection. A sharp sound pierced the air. Amelia barely recognized it as Mr. Kingston's laugh.

"My apologies," he said between howls of laughter, "but this is just way too good. She always told me you were smart, but good lord, she never could've prepared me for this," Andrew seemed to be back in his cheery, confident mood. Amelia now realized she hated both his dark and light sides. After a couple last chuckles, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his police scanner which apparently also controlled the silver-faced robot. He spoke a few unrecognizable words into the microphone, translate back out as vague beeps and other high-pitched noises. Amelia didn't need a translator to figure them out. The Steward gave an immediate reaction, vaulting over the car and onto the snowy floor of the forest below. Its multitude of robotic limbs curled around anything it could grab, pushing the Steward into following the small paw prints along the forest's floor. Amelia could only reach her arm up in misery in the direction of the silver-faced machine. She could only pray the Cat could find her way through the snow better than the Steward.

"Something falling apart?" Andrew swaggered over to a crushed Amelia, grinning from ear to ear. While he began to gloat, the Train started to roll forward, slowly picking up in speed. Soon, the clearing the Steward had made in following the Cat was out of sight, the forest blurring into nothingness.

"Well, I suppose that poor indecisive soul has made up their mind. No matter, my monster will find its way back easily enough. With our furry friend, of course, if luck holds in my favor," He chuckled to himself with a rather ominous tone. Amelia could only feel the shock setting in, the sharp stings of the wind picking up on her face. She had failed, failed the Conductor, failed the Train, failed anyone or anything that would be affected by the actions of the Officer and his newfound power. There was only one shot Amelia had left. Andrew was alone now, and although Amelia was still significantly weaker and less equipped to face him, it was all Amelia had left to do. She steadied herself against the steadily accelerating locomotive. The scenery around them started to quickly revert back into the familiar orange wasteland, shattering through the freezing forest. Amelia held her staff up against the strong figure of the Officer, poised to strike. Andrew unsheathed his other sickle, dual wielding. He sneered and let out only a simple phrase: "En garde."

He lunged towards her, slicing through the air with his sharp silver blades. She knocked one back, but the one in his left connected with her jacket, cutting through the thin fabric and earning a gasp of pain from Amelia. Andrew grew cocky, taking a bow as if to mock Amelia in her abilities. The Londoner, enraged, whacked the man across the side of his head, causing him to lose his balance on the speeding car. Andrew stumbled backwards, heading dangerously close towards the edge of the train car. Amelia made her way in the direction of the staggering Officer, careful not to slip against the slick metal underneath her.

Andrew had landed only feet away from the edge, his legs tripped over a large metal tube running through the middle of the car, splitting it into two separate parts. Amelia had made it halfway across the car, slowly approaching the fallen figure of Andrew. He attempted to grab his dropped sickle, but a shudder of the Train clinked it further down the car, sliding it out of his reach. He groaned and tried to push himself onto his feet. A dozen feet down, Amelia was using her staff to brace against the acceleration of the Train, her good hand clasped over her wound, her injured arm clutching her metal pole. Every so often she would hobble a couple of steps down the car, making sure to keep steady.

Andrew was on one knee when Amelia reached him. She let out a roar of anger as she swung her staff down upon him. Her rage, however, resulted in her attack having little strategic value, easily blocked by the sharp blade of Andrew's sickle. Amelia cried with a mixture of pain and anger, swinging her staff wildly against the kneeling man. He parried each hit expertly until Amelia collapsed from sheer exhaustion. She fell extremely close to the edge, her staff clattering down onto the rails, crunching as the metal ground it apart. She could feel the radiating heat of the electricity humming around them, splintering the air from Earth back into the wasteland she knew so well. Her moment of weakness allowed Andrew to finally plant himself on his feet once again. He rubbed absentmindedly at the wound on his head, his cheek already forming a bruise. The Officer spotted his lost sickle, walking tentatively over to pick it up. The Train became charged with a strong green light, illuminating the dark night sky that still hung over them, if only for a moment. Amelia groaned and attempted to stand, her legs buckling under her like rotten stilts.

"Last offer, my British friend. Teach me the secrets, the hidden laws of this prison, and I'll grant you everything my newfound power could offer. Riches, fame, infinite options, pun intended. Of course, I realize this means nothing to you. I've already dealt my trump card, Amelia. Help me, and he could always live again. That ball couldn't do it, could he? And you weren't smart enough, but times have changed out there. Computers, the internet. I could show you our advancements Amelia. All I need is you," Andrew knelt down next to the fallen woman, eyeing her curiously with a smirk. He traced one of blades across her cheek, freezing any motion she wished to do to him. Amelia felt truly powerless. She could never accept his deal. Power corrupts, and corruption spreads like wildfire. If she helped him, what would she become? She knew one thing, she would never have a chance to get off this Train again. But she couldn't fight him. Not now, not in her state. It was a lose-lose scenario for her. Her only choice was to lose on her own terms.

Amelia pushed herself up onto her feet, held at the throat by Andrew's blade. She looked him in the eye, and any hopes that the woman would assist the Officer disappeared from his mind. The pure agony he saw in her eyes, the pure rage. His smile vanished, and his mind instantly began to run problem solvers. Before he could find a quick and easy solution, Amelia spoke to him, breaking shattering him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know who you are Mr. Kingston. I don't know what your intentions are here, and I don't think I'd ever want to know. But I do know one thing, Kingston," Amelia paused, standing as straight as she could on the rumbling Train. Her silver hair suddenly looked grey, growing ancient in the lime-colored light. She snarled at the Officer and spoke her words of parting to the man.

"We will never be, in any sense of the word, friends."

With those final words, Amelia quickly swatted away Andrew's arm, moving with almost inhuman reflexives Andrew was taken aback by her boldness, but he quickly recovered. He blocked two punches and grabbed both of her arms. He looked at her in sheer annoyance. All of his plan had hinged on her weakness to her deceased husband, and now he had to do this without her. She had been much harder to fight than expected, and she had come very close to besting him in combat. So if she didn't want to play by his rules, he didn't have to play by hers. With a bellow of anger, Andrew reared his left leg up and back, aiming his boot squarely at Amelia's chest. Her only response was to fall silent with fear and understanding. Andrew gave no hesitation, and she gave no resistance. Andrew let go of Amelia's arms and kicked her directly in the chest, sending her sprawling over the Train.

Amelia flailed her arms with terror, but for a moment, she felt calm. Through the cracks in the Earth, she could spot a nice, open embankment of snow. It had stopped snowing, and she felt strangely warm. She smiled, and allowed herself to believe she was free, that she had finally escaped the prison she had been kept in for so long. Amelia flew close, close enough to reach out and touch the snow that lay just outside of the tracks. Of course, it was never going to be that simple. Amelia crashed into a wall of green electricity, a forcefield separating the two worlds. The lightning gave off a brilliant flash of lime-colored light as Amelia bounced off of it, sending her far down the cars of the Train.

Back up above, Andrew stood, shell-shocked by the turn of events. He had to take himself down to one knee, placing his arms on either side of him as if to balance himself on the shaking, crackling Train. He wasn't able to see exactly what happened to Amelia, or where she ended up, all he saw was a bright flash of green, and then the Train left the woman behind, obscuring her from the Officer's view. The splinters of light grew larger, the cracks of orange and yellow widening, hiding the blue sky and snowy forests from sight. Andrew would have to adjust, extremely rapidly at that. His whole plan was shaken, and the Conductor wasn't even neutralized. He felt as if he had somehow blown an easy win, turned his greatest victory into his most embarrassing struggle. As the wind spiraled around him, the Train engulfing itself in its blistering green light, Andrew could only think to say one word.

"Damn."

A young boy sat in the shotgun seat of a much older pickup truck. It clunked along the icy roads, shaking every time they hit an uneven place in the road, which seemed to be every other second. His black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants partially shielded him from the cold, but he had the air cranked up to max, nevertheless. He clicked away at his phone, attempting to relieve his boredom of the long trip.

An older gentleman was seated in the driver's spot, most likely the boy's father. He had grown out a sizable beard, threatening to pool over the tightly wrapped scarf he had tied around his fat neck. His thick jacket was covered in a slight layer of melting slush, and he still wore his woolen mittens as he gripped the steering wheel, indicating he had left the comfort of the truck some short time ago. The radio in the truck was turned up high, relaying some baseless information about sports or news.

The boy rubbed his sleeve against the truck's window, peering outside to confirm his suspicions about the change in weather he had noticed.

"Yeah, snow's finally stopped out there," He spoke, fogging the window up again as he talked. His father only scoffed.

Just our luck, wouldn't it be. Last day of the vacation, the weather starts to clear. At least I have another, 'Turner Curse' to tell the guys back home, huh?" the father glanced over at his son, looking for a reaction to the term he coined to refer to his family's string of poor luck. The boy simply nodded absently, much to his father's annoyance.

"C'mon Will, try and pick yourself up a little," his father asked. Will only gave a slight sign and pushed his head back against the seat head.

"Sorry. I guess...I'm not all that excited to get home," Will said quietly, earning a soundless understanding from his father. They continued down the road in silence.

Deep in the forest, a cream-colored blur dashed through the snowy trees. The Cat had managed to hide, and ditch the Steward multiple times, but its scanners found her every time. She had no idea how she would be able to outpace it or outsmart it, but she remained strong, she owed it to Amelia. So the Cat ran. She had the bagged ball seized strongly in her mouth, and it barely slowed her down. The Cat was certainly fast, but no animal could outrun the Steward. She knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped up, before she made even the slightest mistake. She knew any faults on her would be taken advantage of, and she may not have the chance to make more.

Her logical side told her it was useless, futile to run. A swifter sentence, a lesser punishment. Her emotional side, while small, beckoned her to have faith. Perhaps beyond the next tree lay a town, or a city, or even just a mobile home. Anyone could help. And since her logical side had started this whole mess, she had to rely on her emotions to bail them all out.

It must've been only minutes, perhaps a half an hour of running, but it seemed to steal an entire life away from the Cat, lives she did not have the freedom to spend. Every time she felt she was in the clear, sharp beeping from behind her would send her racing once more. She knew she couldn't take it for much longer. Her luck had finally run out.

However, luck had decided to throw the Cat one last bone, irony extremely intended. The Cat soon found herself in a much more spread out area of trees. The forest gradually grew sparser, until the Cat could spot the rusted steel of a road guardrail, jutting out at the top of a slick hill. The Cat could spot no cars from her position, as any road of this nature would usually be unused at this time of the day, but she felt certain she had just received an enormous break. She wasn't even sure if she deserved it.

Nevertheless, the Cat raced to the hill, the snow crunching under her paws. She had made it halfway there when the fur on the scruff of her neck began to raise, her skin crawled with anxiety. Sure enough, when she turned to look over her shoulder, there stood the Steward. Although, stood was not exactly applicable. The silver-faced monster had sort of hung herself over the snow-covered trees, looking very much like a hawk, about to swoop down and devour its prey.

"Halt, criminal. Return yourself and your stolen property to the Train immediately!" The Steward shouted to the Cat, its electronic voice more hostile, less warbly and much more commanding. The Cat barely heard any of it. As soon as she spotted the tentacled robot, she bolted once more to the hill, determined to reach the road. Perhaps there would be another forest on the other side, or perhaps even a community. She needed cover, or people, and she wasn't going to get them if she was imprisoned by a certain mechanical monster.

The Steward, realizing the Cat had no intentions of following her orders, engaged in Plan B. Small black cannons protruded from the robot's eyes, trained on the Cat's running figure. The Steward had avoided using the weapons against the Cat, in fear of harming the precious cargo she carried. The Steward's instructions also dictated it needed to do everything in its power to preserve the life of the Cat, but all other methods of capture were failing. Somehow, the Cat was managing to evade it, dodging every move it could think to make. The Steward was growing stressed, partially due to the sudden shift in loyalties it was forced to experience just hours ago. Now, the Cat had succeeded in reaching a possible stream of humans. If even one was able to lay their hands on the technology the Cat was hauling, the results would be catastrophic. The Train had always operated on the cusp of understanding, and many who were able to leave realized how crazy their story would sound to the public. They kept quiet due to the fear of skepticism. Others proudly shouted the events of their voyage to the world, and every single one was shunned from society, a lunatic, crazed buffoons. The Train was sometimes referred to by psychiatrists as, "Shared Mismemory Disorder," and those who had it were generally taken with a grain of salt.

But the Cat was playing a very dangerous game. If she came into contact with any humans, the shadows the Train hid behind would be torn away, its cloak ripped off. Secrecy was the Train's biggest strength, and persuasion would be its greatest threat.

So the Steward had no choice left, but to neutralize the Cat before she was able to interact with anything or anyone from Earth. Her cannons charged, a slight red glow could be seen deep in the depths, and then a firestorm of bullets rained down on the fleeing feline.

The Cat was nimble, quick, and light on her paws. This, combined with the Steward's unreliable aim, meant that she was able to weave her way through the streaming paths of the bullets. The bag, however, was not so lucky. The burlap material was charred with several smoking holes, and it was all the Cat could do not to check if One-One had made it through unscathed. He definitely didn't need any more damage to befall him further.

The feline was starting to climb the hill when a bullet hit the swish of her tail. A completely random shot, and it did little except singe fur, but the Cat was momentarily knock onto the snow. She tumbled for a slight bit before pushing herself back onto her feet, sticking her wounded limb into the snow to alleviate the pain. She was looking for the burlap sack when her eyes locked with the cannons of the Steward. Even over the distance that lay between the two, the Cat could tell they were trained exactly on her head. A pit formed in her stomach, and she instantly knew this would be how it ends. The Steward raised its head, attempting to gain a better vantage point, and if anyone had witnessed the event, they may have spotted a slight smirk on the otherwise emotionless face of the robot. If the Steward was confident in its abilities, it would be disappointed with a sudden change of events. A loud screech could be heard close by, and the Steward momentarily turned its stoic face to look up at the creature that had made the sound. A large owl swooped down, talons extended. It caught the Steward by surprise and connected with the robot's silver face before it could process what was happening. The owl's feet sliced over the Steward's left eye socket, damaging the extended cannon and giving the robot's face three white scratch marks, conflicting with the rest of its uniform design.

The Cat sensed another lucky moment and wasted no time in grabbing the burlap sack that lay not too far away. She got the bag secured in her mouth and took off for the hill. She would never see the reason for the winged attack, never spotting the trampled nest, crushed by one of the Steward's many limbs. All she would know is appreciation for the bird's bravery. She knew the bird had saved her life, and perhaps countless others.

The Steward swatted limbs at the owl, perhaps for much longer than it should've taken, before it finally made contact with the feathered nuisance. The bird squawked angrily, and awkwardly dove down and away, out of the robot's reach. Unfortunately for the Steward, the owl had given the Cat more than enough time to get away. Combined with the sudden lack of both its left eye and left cannon, the Steward could no longer rely on its already poor accuracy. The lone gun retreated back into the robot's right eye, replaced with a blaze of blue fire. Over three hundred yards lay between the two, but the advantage lay with the Steward. It could probably cross that distance in under ten seconds, and the Cat knew this all too well. She was struggling to come up with a fast idea when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of light. The feline could hardly believe it when as she watched the small image of a lone car drive down the road, towards herself. She would wish for nothing more than to race safely into whoever's arms lay on the steering wheel, but that idea was impractical with the presence of the Steward. She had to make a snap decision, a tough choice. Although, it was mostly made up for her. Hearing the beeping and metallic rattling coming from behind her. She knew the preservation of the Conductor would only succeed with this one and only way.

The Cat slung the sack as far as she could, hiding it behind a small, scraggly tree, barely obscuring it. For good measure, she quickly scooped a thin layer of snow over the bag, hopefully veiling the contents from the threatening robot that lay behind her. Then, when she was satisfied with her disguise, the Cat dashed across the asphalt road.

It was much cooler than the slush of the snow she left behind. Much more ice, less dirt. Her claws made it at least feasible to quickly move over the frozen, rocky material. She could hear both the frantic scraping of the Steward and the slight rumbling of the car, both coming quickly for her. She could only hope her plan would work.

The Steward reached her first. It completely disregarded the hidden bag, much to the Cat's satisfaction. It sort of wrapped its arms around the feline, tightly restricting any movement. It pulled the Cat to meet its one good eye and, if fire could portray emotions, the Cat would say the robot looked smug. Their meeting was interrupted, however, as the bright headlights of the car flashed on the pair. Both the Steward and the Cat turned to look at the rapidly moving vehicle. It appeared the Cat was wrong in at least one regard. She saw not a car shining its bright lights upon them, but a ratty old pickup truck.

Will's father had reached over to turn the radio to a different station when it happened. His arm knocked his phone down in the space between his seat and the dashboard.

His father cursed and looked up at the road that lay in front of them. A flat passing, nothing as far as the eye could see. It wouldn't hurt to… He looked at his son, tapping away at a screen.

"Hey. Can you just, look out at the road for a few seconds to make sure we don't hit anything?" He tried to make his voice as persuasive and calm as possible. Will simply gave a mumble of agreement without looking up. Normally, his father wouldn't have been so reckless, but he seemed relatively sure there would be no oncoming traffic. Just a simple reach n' grab. It would be easy, almost infallible.

Of course, something must go wrong. It was almost legend, an urban myth. The Turners had some of the worst luck possible. As soon as Will's father reached down, his son took a quick glance upwards, saw nothing out of the normal, and looked back down at his phone. He never saw the sleek white cat dash across the street, just a couple hundred feet in front of him. He probably wouldn't have seen the metal body of the Steward either, if it wasn't for the slight glint of the silver mask against the dying light of the moon. The small flash warranted a brief look from Will, who instantly widened his eyes at the sight. In the headlights was a hulking mass of metal vines, looking as if it was squeezing the life out of a rather intelligent looking feline. He would've stopped to gape for a lot longer than he did, if he wasn't about to crash into them.

"Ahhhhh!" He screamed, reaching over to pull on the steering wheel. He swerved, much to the surprise of his father. The truck flew off the right of the road, hydroplaning on the ice until they were smashed into the metal guardrail. For a few seconds, Will and his father stayed completely still, Will's hands still gripped tightly on the wheel. Will's father then jolted up and looked wildly around the car, his eyes finally falling on his son.

"Are you alright? What the heck just happened?" He was about to launch a flurry of questions onto Will before he saw the petrified face looking straight ahead, the white of his knuckles on the wheel. "What happened?" he asked, much more softly this time. Will managed to peel his eyes away long enough to meet with his father. He was going to tell his father all about the wild monster he had seen when he realized how insane it made him look. He had been awake for over twenty hours, most of which had been sitting in the car on his phone. He very well may have totally imagined it. Whether or not it was real, Will decided it would be best to hold what he saw close to his chest.

"A deer!" Will blurted out. "I-I saw a deer. It just froze, and I had to do something," he told his father, hoping he'd buy it.

"Well, did we hit it?" his father asked. Will felt a little relieved he didn't question anything more.

"I don't know. It was kind of hard to tell in the dark," he figured any answer he gave would be sufficient.

"Well then, I guess me better make sure," his dad reasoned, opening the truck's door and stepping out into the freezing air. "I'll check the damage; you go spot out anywhere that thing would have run off to."

William, knowing somehow he wouldn't find any trace of the deer, pulled on various weather protection and exited the truck as well. He carefully walked over to the back, He held onto the side of the vehicle to keep from sliding along the icy road. His father had pulled a flashlight out of the tied down mass in the bed and was shining it around the side of the truck, trying to see the severity of the damage done to his car. He handed Will his own flashlight, pointing him in the opposite direction of the road. Will took it in his gloved hand, sticking his other hand deep in his jacket pocket. He walked over to the frosted guardrail, aiming his light around the forest looking for something he knew was not going to be there. His beam instead found evidence of a large beast, crashing through a large path through the forest. Frozen trunks had been thrown to the side as far back as the flashlight could show Will. Suddenly, the metal monster from his imagination became much more real. He hopped the metal rail, looking down at his feet to steady himself. His eyes found something else, however, and he shined his flashlight on small paw prints he found in the snow. His heart pounded in his chest and he realized that the metal beast could be lurking in the shadows, watching his every move. Will shined the light around the forest, taking in no sign of a sneaky spider robot. He looked back down, deciding to follow the tracks in the snow. His beam walked along their path, landing on a small brown sack cleverly hidden behind a small sapling. There was no snow covering the bag which told Will it hadn't been there for long. Perhaps this was more physical evidence of the odd night meeting he had occurred. He slowly approached the bag, fearful and curious of what he might find.

"Will, find anything!?" his dad shouted over to him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Uhhh, not really," he answered, both lying and telling the truth at the same time.

"I guess that means we can go then. Hate that we could've let a wounded animal go," his father said, hints of somberness showing through. Will felt like he had to assure his father this nonexistent animal was OK, but he could do that later. He shoved the burlap sack into the confines of his coat, making note of the jagged and rigid forms he felt moving inside of the bag up against his chest. He then vaulted back over the metal guard rail, hurrying back into the truck. His father was already in the driver's seat and gave Will a quick once over.

"Nothing?" he asked his son.

"Nothing," Will replied, a little out of breath. He clicked the seat belt back into place, sliding it over his now bulky figure.

"God, I can't wait to get back to Denver. Nature is probably nice once you get to know it, but I really don't have that kind of time," Will's father gave a small smile over to his son, who tried his best to return it. His dad then started the car back up, turning it right back around onto the right side of the road. Will tried his best to settle down, but his blood was dripping with adrenaline, his heart thumping. His thoughts muddled around in his brain, clashing with everything he thought before this surprising altercation in the middle of the frozen forest. He tried his best to reason with himself, but he just couldn't do it, and Will eventually let his eyes close in on themselves as they made their long way home.