Well uh, hello. In all seriousness I never meant for this to be so long of a break. I had been intending for this to be a shorter chapter I could get out before the release of Book2, but it didn't happen. And Book 2 just sapped all enjoyment I had out of writing this for whatever reason. It was just seeing how good it was maybe, and how bad mine looked in comparison? I guess? Whatever the case, as long as Book 3 isn't announced next month, I should be looking to hit back with regular updates. Thank the COVID for that I guess.

Best wishes-TheUnderdog

Episode Five: The Diner Car

"We'll always remember your courage and bravery in the revolution!" the gun-man shouted. From the neck down he appeared as a normal revolutionary, as normal as a revolutionary could seem, draped in a torn green camouflage uniform that hung from his silver metal body, including silver arms wrapped in several dirty bandages. Despite the rest of his body, instead of a silver head, or any head for that matter, he had a dirty revolver atop his shiny metallic body. There was black mud smeared on the chamber of his gun-head somewhat resembling eye black, despite his apparent lack of eyes. His confident voice boomed from the depths of the dark hole of his barrel, although neither Tulip nor Will could make sense of how it worked. The man said his name was Ruger, the leader of the rebellion. From the few days Will and Tulip had stayed in this car, they had yet to figure out who they were rebelling against. The high elite firearms? An oppressive regime of rifles? Whatever the case, they were more than happy to play along, Tulip remarking several times on how similar their experiences were to that of a popular video game she'd been following. They did little but stand around while Ruger and his paramilitary friends shouted cliché revolutionary phrases.

The car reminded Will more so over a desert country in northern Africa or the Middle East, many buildings in ruins, sand running through the streets. A war-torn nation. The revolutionaries confided to the two that this place wasn't always like this that their car had once been a place of peace and prosperity. But a few months ago, the locals became more aggressive, inching closer to war. Interestingly, the few hospitals in the car didn't bear the familiar red cross, instead showing a circle of six white dots, apparently symbolizing the six bullets in a standard revolver's chamber.

Will and Tulip now stood on a tall hill of sand, overlooking a sea of yellow dust. Despite their little progress with whatever insurgency these gun-people were trying to pull off, Ruger apparently decided the revolution to be won for them, throwing a great celebration. At the end, when the sun set, was a going away party for the duo. They stood next to the red double doors, built right up from the dunes. Will wouldn't ever admit it, but he was anxious to get out of there. They had forced Will and Tulip to change from their casual clothing, instead giving them proper revolutionary clothing, including combat boots, shredded green vests, useless helmets made for people with guns for heads. Surprisingly to Ruger and his friends, Will and Tulip did not have guns for heads. And while Will thought the clothes were nice enough, he was more than happy to oblige when he was able to wipe away the eye paint and put on his modern, comfortable clothes.

"We thank you for your service!" Ruger thundered from his barrel. Tulip had to place a hand over her mouth each time the gun-man talked. It was just so odd, so funny to see. She regained her composure enough to close her eyes and stand up as straight as she could.

"And we, in turn, are honored to help you achieve…" Tulip looked confusingly at Will, as if she could only guess at what they were supposed to do. Will simply smirked and gave a curt shrug. Tulip stuck her tongue out at him and continued talking. "Glorious revolution?" she guessed, hoping it was the right answer. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't the wrong answer. All of the revolutionaries gave thunderous applause, giving Tulip a chance to look smug back at Will. Ruger paused in his celebratory nature to aim his sights directly at Will's head, causing the boy to squirm uncomfortably, much to Tulip's delight.

"By the Gods of Gatling, we shall bestow you the greatest gift our people could give," Ruger spoke in an almost religious fervor."The blessing of the Great Remington. May he guide you towards a bright and fiery future." Ruger clasped his hands together to the sky. Will and Tulip exchanged a look of humor, causing the redhead teen to almost burst out laughing.

"Well… that's certainly...helpful," Will struggled to find the right words, prompting Tulip to try and help him out,

"Very helpful," she offered. Ruger was apparently satisfied, waving his silver hands around in the air. At his signal a group of similar gun-men made a sort of tunnel sprouting from the red doors. They raised their own respective hands in salute, making a gun with the thumb and the first two fingers, aiming them up at the stars. Will and Tulip returned the salute to Ruger and shook his hands. They strolled over to the exit, taking one last look at the sandy car. Will wasn't so sure he would be remembering this place so fondly.

Will and Tulip both grasped their respective sides of the double doors. They looked up at each other and smiled.

"Whatever happens next?" the redhead gave a sly smile. Will felt a similar, fluttering, feeling in his stomach that reminded him of his time in New Alexandria. He hadn't felt it in a little over a week, crossing through several strange cars, including one which included a rural town where every house was missing their roofs, something Will was peeved about when the mayor asked them to build a few.

"Whatever happens next," Will agreed. Together, they pulled the golden handle open, the doors swinging open. They gave a wave of goodbye to Ruger and the rest of the revolutionaries before walking over the metal catwalk to the entrance to the next car.

"$10 the next car makes us hunt down, like, a wild rattlesnake, or something," Will told Tulip as he made his way across the two cars, only half-joking. Tulip gave a short laugh to the idea.

"Will you take that in Canadian dollars?" she joked back.

Will and Tulip reached the door at the same time, grabbing the edges. Before they clicked open, Will and Tulip glanced at each other. Both were thinking the same thing. The same thing they'd been thinking each time they opened another car. Something bad could be behind that door. Someone like Distortion. Or someone worse. But those thoughts were irrational, and really couldn't be avoided even if it was true. They opened the entrance and walked through into a whole new world.

Perhaps world wasn't the correct word. Will and Tulip found themselves walking into the entrance of a small cafe, a little restaurant, tucked away on the tracks. They looked eerily around the room. No one seemed to pay them much attention, a sharp contrast to many of the other cars the two had previously been to. Another sharp contrast was the inhabitants. They weren't exactly normal cafe-goers. Will and Tulip spotted a hamburger man eagerly reaching for a much smaller, hopefully less sentient, hamburger on his plate. There was a large family of french fries seated in a collection of tables by the far left wall, all of them in varying shapes and stiffness. Running around the tables was a large sandwich dressed in waitress clothes. Working at the chef's station was a particularly greasy piece of pizza donning a dirty apron. Cheesy arms sprouted out of his slouching body, gripping a spatula.

Will and Tulip awkwardly stood by the doors, unsure of what to do until the sandwich waitress waved them in, pointing to a table. Tulip shot forward, not stopping for the table and instead running straight to the double red doors. She stopped right in front of them, looking back at Will as if expecting him to race over next to her. The boy instead leisurely strolled over, taking in the entire car.

"Where's the fire?" he asked with a smirk. Tulip impatiently tapped her foot on the floor.

"Sorry," she apologized. "It's just...every car that doesn't give us something for One-One, it's just a waste of time. We don't know when my number runs out, so I guess I wanna' get this done as quickly as we can, you know?" she subconsciously ran her fingers through her red hair, something Will had picked on as a sign she was nervous.

"It's alright. But I wouldn't mind taking a stay in this car," Will shrugged. He grabbed the golden handle and tried to look reassuringly at Tulip. She joined Will at the door, looking back at him.

"Whatever it takes?" she asked again, a bit more tired than the Revolutionary Car.

"Whatever it takes," Will agreed.

They pulled on the handles, but the door didn't budge. Tulip placed a foot on the handle and tried to yank it open, but she slipped and fell to the ground. Will choked back a laugh before extending his hand down to Tulip. She grudgingly took it and pulled herself back to her feet.

"Well," she said, wiping the dust from her pants. "It appears we've been met with another locked door." Tulip looked around the cafe. "I guess this means you got your wish."

"Oh come on," Will tried to cheer her up. "A diner isn't the worst place to be stuck in, right? Could've been worse? I'll go find us a table," Will told her, giving the girl a thumbs up. He made his way over to the spot the sandwich-waitress had pointed out to them before. Tulip sulked her way over to the chef's station, attempting to get more information about the state of the car.

"Excuse me, Mr.… Pizza?" Tulip asked the oily chef. He turned to face the redhead, setting his cheesy arms on the counter.

"Please, call me Cheese. Mr. Pizza was my father's name. Now, whatever is the problem?" Cheese asked Tulip, taking out a dirty rag and wiping down a shiny white plate, for what reasons Tulip would never know.

"Oh, well then," Tulip spoke, a bit taken aback. "I was just wondering if you could tell me why the door is locked, or if there is anything we can do to, you know, help it unlock?" Cheese pulled his hand away to give a scratch atop his literal crusty head.

"Well, that certainly beats me. The last Passengers to pass through these parts were a bit past my time, at least. I'd ask my father if I could, Lard rest his soul. But hey, while you're thinking, feel free to sit down and enjoy some food. I pride myself on being the best restaurant across seventy miles of track," Cheese replied, ending by proudly displaying his arms as if embracing the sky.

"What's past seventy miles?" Tulip asked out of curiosity. Cheese responded by curling his fists in concealed rage.

"Please. I try not to talk about Pablo's Cafe while on the job. Too much shame. Too many bad memories…" Cheese trailed off, dipping his crustlike head down with sorrow. Tulip swore she could hear somber Mexican music playing softly in the distance.

"Well, okay then, I guess...I-I'll go sit down," Tulip choked out, pairing her awkward words with an awkward smile. She felt like Cheese was giving her the same smile back, just without a mouth. Or any other parts to a face.

"By all means," he told her, waving a hand in the direction of Will, who was sitting comfortably at one of the booths up against the wall of the diner. Tulip could see out of a large window; the barren orange landscape of whatever land lay beyond the Train. Cheese bent down close to Tulip, sort of cupping his cheesy hand around her ear.

"Between you and me, I like him," Cheese whispered. Tulip blushed fiercely and darted her eyes to the floor.

"It's not like that," the redhead teen mumbled under her breath. Cheese only chuckled and elbowed her in the shoulder.

"Well, call me from Pablo's if that ever changes. And please, have a grand time at the Third Rail!" Cheese gave a pair of halfhearted jazz hands before walking back to the chef's station. At the last few words of Cheese's sentence, a bright neon sign above Tulip began to glow immensely. The teen backed up a few steps, allowing it to be more visible. The green shine was unmistakable.

The Third Rail!

"Hmm," Tulip murmured. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about the ominous name. After a few seconds she gripped the sides of her backpack and strolled over to the table Will sat at. He'd stored their bags under his feet while his bag sat on the center of the table, machinery spilling out of it. He paid little attention to the mess, however, as he gazed longingly at the laminated menu he held in his hands. Tulip slid into the booth across from Will, picking up a menu of her own.

"Tulip, if I'm dreaming, please, please don't wake me up," Will told her, his eyes glazed over. Tulip smirked, looking up to see what he was talking about. "They have everything. Burgers, fries, steak, milkshakes!" he marveled. "We had to eat bullet casings in the last car!"

"Uhg, don't remind me," Tulip grumbled, clutching her stomach. Will laughed and continued reading over the menu. Tulip followed suit, admittingly amazed at the selection as well. Food wasn't exactly hard to come by on the Train, but good food definitely was. They spent a few minutes looking over the food before the sandwich waitress from before made her way over to the pair.

"Hey there strangers. Name's Montague, but y'all can call me Monty," she told the teens in a stereotypical southern accent. "Now, y'all got your orders ready?"

"Well, hello Monty," Will greeted the sandwich, closing his laminated menu. "And I should probably be asking you if you're ready to hear it," Will said with a sly smile. Tulip just groaned, while Monty gave a small laugh of amusement.

"Someone sure is hungry," the sandwich said, taking out a little notepad.

"You don't know the half of it," Will told her, propping his head up on his arm on the table. "You wouldn't believe how much you take for granted back home, you know?"

"Oh I'd believe it alright. Y'all ain't my first Passengers, just so y'all know," Monty told the two of them. Upon hearing this, Tulip perked up, suddenly interested in every word that came out of the sandwich's mouth (or whatever their equivalent was).

"You've seen other Passengers?" she asked the waitress.

"Why of course," Monty said. "But that was a long time ago. Back before Cheese's time, for sure. His father was such a sweet man, you know?" Monty reminisced; her slices of bread angled towards the ceiling like she was gazing happily up at the stars.

"Well, if you've seen other Passengers, do you know how we can get that door unlocked?" Tulip asked, curling her toes in anticipation. Monty shook rapidly, and it took the two of them a few seconds to realize she was laughing.

"Oh love, let's just say you made the right choice sitting down here. But please, what would you like?" Monty asked the two of them, focusing right back on business. Probably why she'd been able to keep her job for so many years.

"Well I'd like two choclate milkshakes, one without whipped cream, one with extra whipped cream. I want a large burger with extra cheese and extra fries. No pickle. It is imperative the burger contains no pickles. I'd also like a large Caesar salad with extra dressing and extra croutons," Will ordered. After he was done he took a deep breath, as if he was close to passing out from the magnitude of his order. Tulip gave Will a look of amazement, like his request was unfathomable. The brown-haired boy only gave Tulip a sheepish smile.

"Certainly a mouthful. And for you darling?" Monty asked the redhead.

"A water," Tulip said dryly, narrowing her eyes at Will. "And a small fry."

"Well normally I'd press on you a bit, but I'm sure there's enough food to go around," Monty chuckled to herself. "Your food will be out shortly," she told the two, walking away to do her job somewhere else. Will was rummaging through the mess of mechanics that was his bag when Tulip cleared her throat in a not-so-inconspicuous way.

"What?" Will asked, trying to look as innocent as possible. Tulip simply raised an eyebrow.

"We've been here for less than a month and you're already acting like we haven't eaten in weeks," Tulip remarked, crossing her arms. Will shrugged and leaned back in his comfy booth seat.

"Oh come on, you never know when this might come around again. You miss every shot you don't take, you know?" Will told her, attempting to defend himself.

"Really?" the redhead said skeptically. Will fiddled with his thumbs and looked away from his friend.

"I guess there's a little more than that. It's just...me and my father would always go to this little place near our house every month. We'd always get the same thing, I'd get the burger and he'd get the salad. It's been going on for years, and now...well I guess this'll be the first time it won't be happening. I don't know, maybe I just wanted to feel like, like everything was normal, you know?" Will confided, a slight blush of embarrassment spreading onto his face. Before Tulip had a chance to say anything he took out the broken white ball out of his back and set it on the table, pretending to examine every inch of the thing to avoid conversation with the redhead. But Tulip wasn't going to mock him or make fun.

"I get what you mean. I mean, the first time I was here, I tried to convince myself I was back at home with Car that had a couple of cardboard cutouts of my parents," Tulip gave him a slight smile, trying to show him it was okay. Will looked like he was about to say something, but Tulip stopped him before he could get anything out. "Don't ask. Point is, it's okay to be homesick. To feel...bitter, or something. The point of the Train is to get you to admit things about yourself that you'd never have admitted to anyone else, maybe not even you. It's a special kind of therapy, because all it is is you. It's you trying to find yourself, your place in the world." Tulip reached over the table to take Will's hand and to look in his startled eyes. "But sometimes, a little company is nice," Tulip smiled. They stayed like for a second too long before Tulip retracted, crossing her arms in front of her face to shield the blush, while Will bent his head over to look like he was fully immersed in his work on the little sphere.

"I-I think I'll just work on One-One, you know, before the food gets here," Will stammered out. Tulip coughed, clearing her throat.

"Y-yeah, that sounds good. Let me know if you make any breakthroughs," she told him in equal awkwardness.

"Will do," Will told her. He paused and looked up at her. "And thanks. I'm really glad there's someone here who understands," he smiled. Tulip, despite the tension in the air, couldn't help but smile back.

"You got it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking a nap. That Revolutionary Car didn't have the most comfortable bedding. Or anything comfortable for that matter," Tulip noted, laying down in her booth seat, using her backpack as a makeshift pillow.

Will took out an assortment of tools, laying them all over the table. He clutched a portable blowtorch he'd plugged into his battery stored inside of his backpack and clapped on a dented metal facemask he'd gotten from his time in the Golden Car.

"Alright you hunk of metal. I'm close, I can feel it," he whispered to the deactive little sphere. "Let's do it. Whatever it takes."

"Perhaps. Perhaps if I do this…no, no, that would never work." The mumblings of Andrew Kingston echoed around in the confines of the Engine. In front of him lay an ornate, gleaming golden table, dirtied from stacks of papers and makeshift models strewn about it. Andrew stood hunched over the whole thing, his eyes darting crazily from paper to paper. This had become an unfortunate routine in the homely man's day. Planning, scheming, searching for the right time to strike. He wondered if this was how military generals felt, the ticking clock above their heads, counting down the seconds they had until it was too late.

The Officer fell silent, the words under his breath finished. He fell onto his throne, exhausted. A gloved hand found its way to his head, rubbing softly at his temples.

"Whatever is the matter?" the voice of a certain smirking white feline rang out from the corner of the car. The Cat had made a small alcove in the dark space, a little nest, cobbled together. Ever since Andrew had gotten fully immersed in his work he'd had little time to enforce his rules against the feline, and she had taken full advantage of it. The Officer pushed himself up by his arms, looking on the table for a specific paper. He grabbed it forcefully and sunk into his cushy throne with anger. He grabbed the paper with both of his hands, crumpling the sides with his rage.

"Her. Him . They are the matter," Andrew growled, blasting the piece of paper in the direction of the Cat. It was a photograph, a black and white CCTV shot of Tulip and Will with Midas in New Alexandria. "It would've been so easy, so very easy if it hadn't been for them. But of course, everything must be against me. Even in success I must fail, isn't that the rule of the world? Even when I win I must lose," the Officer spoke softly, but his words contained a sense of unfairness and bitter hatred, like Andrew was on the gallows for a crime he hadn't committed.

"Are these children such a threat to you?" the Cat asked with her innocent facade.

"Well isn't that the thing? Of course not right now. Lord, they probably don't even know who I am!" Andrew exclaimed. The Cat raised a curious eyebrow but kept to herself. "But you see it time and time again. You underestimate someone, you'll find yourself under their boot soon enough. And with the ball, well, I just can't take any chances. I can't afford to lose again."

"And why's that?" the Cat asked, slinking past the haggard insurgent, her paws careful to dodge the stacks of empty Chinese food boxes Andrew had picked up from the Chinatown Car, a find he was especially proud of.

"No. No, I don't have to tell my life story to some...some sentient feline," Andrew said, spitting out the words like they gave him a bad taste in his mouth. The Cat glanced over her shoulder, intrigued.

"Your story would be safe with me, Officer," the Cat said, her words moving over Andrew like smooth silk. He could tell why she was such a good conman. Conwoman? Concat? In truth, he might've been able to resist temptation for a few minutes longer, but he didn't see the need. Perhaps, deep down, he wanted to tell his tale to someone. Andrew waited a few moments, drenched in heavy silence before he finally spoke.

"I had a son. Alex. Alex Kingston," the Officer gave a slight smile, the good memories coming first, before the bad did. "A brilliant little boy, the kind of child you'd see in a PG movie. No complaining, no bickering. We lived in...Seattle for a while, I think. Yes, that's it. He was…" Andrew paused, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. "He was planning on going to Columbia. He would've been able to, I think. Then...something happened, something got to him in high school. I wish I knew what. God I wish I knew!" Andrew slammed a fist down on the golden table in front of him. He sat back, cradling his injured hand. "He was never the same. I don't know. And, after the whole...thing with New York in '01, we moved to San Diego, and I got a job as a policeman. The 'Officer', right? I don't know, maybe I got too caught up with the patriotism." Andrew reached to his left breast pocket and pulled out a tarnished gold badge. It grew blurry in his hands, and he realized he had started crying. "Alex got worse. No school, no drive to finish learning. No drive to do much of anything. Like he'd gone and lost the will to...to live," Andrew spoke, so softly the Cat had to strain her pointed ears to hear. "And then, he just goes and leaves. Walks right off the face of the earth. We called everyone, we searched everywhere. And yet, nothing. My wife, she and I...broke up a few months after that. She moved back to Seattle, and I stayed there." Andrew reached further down in his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He opened it to reveal a little Polaroid, a picture showing Andrew and his young son. Better times. "It must've been...what, five years? Six? Just showed up at his mother's. Just...out of the blue." Andrew closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. If he talked for too long he'd end up on the floor, bawling his eyes out. "Best days of my life. It was like he was...like he was back to normal, or something like that. He started applying for colleges, started rebuilding his life. He'd never tell us where he'd been. Too be honest, I didn't really care. I was still ecstatic he was alive. I-I started making plans to move back, to get back together with his mother. Everything was going great." Andrew gave a bitter laugh that quickly turned into a harsh cough. When he was done, his face grew dark, as if the skylight he'd neglected to fix had been covered with a storm of black clouds. "But it didn't last. Nothing good ever does, huh?" he paused, as if remembering something. "Nothing gold can stay. Frost, huh? Boy, did he have it right. Alex started getting worse, fast. He started staying out more, losing his interests. He stayed mostly in his room, on the computer doing God knows what." Andrew balled his hands, crumpling the photo. "It was...around six months. Six months. Like I said, best days of my life. Followed by the absolute worst." Andrew bent over and placed his head in his hands. The Cat walked slowly up to the throne, careful not to disturb the Officer. "Some days...some days I'd like to think he had no other choice. Backed up into a corner, no where else to turn. Thinking, 'There's worse fates than death'…" Andrew suddenly sat up straight, running his gloved hands through his hair. His face was blotchy and red from tears. "The doctors called it PTSD. The cops called it delusion. Another case of the 'Trains'. That's what they were calling it. Some poor schmuck so messed up he starts making up stuff about supernatural trains and other 'delusionary elements'." Andrew took a few shaky breaths before continuing. "Shared Mismemory Disorder. That's what he had. All the stuff on his computer, him looking up sightings, people who claimed they were 'Trained'. Just the works of a madman. Symptoms of insanity. But I never really believed them. Alex...Alex left something for me. A note. His last words, so to speak. He didn't tell me what had happened to him in the beginning. Too…'traumatizing' were his words. But he told me he'd been in a slump. A bad time. Real bad. He went out one day, just to get out of the house, just to remind himself he could still breathe. He found himself in the subway, just wandering about. A bright green light flew before his eyes, and before he could even say 'Huh', he was in the belly of the beast." Andrew fell silent, an air of finality hanging around his words. But the Cat wasn't about to leave it at that. Whoever came up with the phrase, "curiosity killed the cat', was one hundred percent correct.

"What happened then?" her words fell out of her mouth, almost a whisper.

"Alex...he gave me so many tales of adventure, so many cars, so many stories. Kingdoms of cookies, roller coasters made out of candy canes. He told of a great orange wasteland, stretching as far as the eye could see. He told of gigantic steel cars, containing even larger worlds within them. He told of the most vibrant, the most evil of characters he encountered. I think that was his favorite part. Being able to tell people what happened to him, being able to speak about it without being ridiculed, without being labeled delusional, insane." The Officer's eye gave one last tear before his face grew dry. "He said it was the best years of his life. He was having fun, he was enjoying life. He made friends, he made enemies, he did things, just like a normal person. He...he told of a bright green number on his right hand, its exact digits escape me. It was in the thousands, at least that's what I'd assume. It...It kept going down. No one could tell him why. The people in the cars were like video game characters to him, they knew what to say to make you feel better, but they never gave him the answer he didn't want to hear. The answer he needed to hear. And when he got down to zero? Poof. Gone. Stumbling onto his childhood home, falling down in the rainy streets of Seattle. He tried so hard to adjust, to get used to normal life. It was for nothing. He just couldn't live in the real world anymore. Who'd want to, after what he'd been through? Living it up in a world where everything makes you feel good, then returning to a place where everything sucks?" Andrew scratched absentmindedly at his tangled beard, met with his tears. "That's why he did it. If he couldn't live on the Train, then he didn't want to live at all." Andrew paused, collecting his thoughts. The Cat was astonished. How many years ago had he been there. Had she met with him?

"I didn't show the notes to the police. I knew what they'd do with them. I was one of them, for heaven's sake! Besides, I decided I was going to do a little bit of work on them myself. I started diving deep into the rabbit hole that was the 'Trains'. Thousands of cases, each of them so specific and intricate that some say it must be true. Some of them were...less than interesting. Many were faked, working to discredit the real ones even further. They talked about the same things Alex had written about. Getting sucked randomly into a mystical green train when they were at their lowest points in life, going along the path, growing as you went about your way. They talked about you, Cat. Some wrote you as a sniving, scheming con artist. Some wrote you as a helpful, kind, Good Samaritan. They wrote about the Monster, a beast with more arms than bullets in its eyes. Sneaking around, thieving green orbs, breaking cars, breaking Passengers. Most referred to it as the Steward, although some called it the Engineer, and even still, some thought it to be the Conductor themself." Andrew shuddered, the memories flooding back to him.

"What then?" the Cat hissed, barely audible over the clunking of the great wheels churning the Train forward through the bleak desert.

"I suppose…I suppose I became a sort of detective. I'd post ads in the paper for those who claim they'd been 'Trained'. I searched every inch of the internet, scoured even the tiniest of things, as long as they may have contained a hint to another piece of the puzzle. I started taking an online college course on coding, based on the accounts of several former Passengers. I tried my best to adapt to the modern world, despite how hard it seemed to be, or how much I didn't want to even try. I tried my hardest to get personal accounts, meet people face-to-face. If that didn't work out I'd call. I'd text, I'd email. Anything to get what I wanted."

"What did you want?" the Cat whispered.

"I wanted an entryway. An entrance. A door to this marvelous world. It was something none of those 'Trained' had experienced. Looking for the Train. Trying to reach it. Many doubted it could be done, but I couldn't afford to listen to them. If I couldn't get my son back, I'd get back at the thing that got my son. And it took years. Years of sweat, years of traveling all over the world, years of stopping at the local bar, hoping to God some former Passenger would wander in and make your day worthwhile," the Officer spat angirly. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and tried to calm down. "It was my third attempt, you know? Third times the charm, I guess. I drove out to the middle of nowhere, where even the railroad crossing didn't have a sign. I stopped and I waited. I thought about all the bad in my life, my failed marriage, the death of my son. All the tragedy, all the things that make life a nightmare to wake up to in the morning. And then...just like that...I got here. I finally had succeeded in one little thing. I got...I got a blasted message, from that ball when I woke up in that little pod. Disgusting. I know for a fact my son never got that. He had to work his way to find out how to work in that prison. And God, did I found out later on how prison-like it really was. My son was smart, smarter than me, but he didn't know how awful this Train really could be. I spent a few months crossing cars before I met you. And then, well the rest is history." Andrew stood up and wiped what remained of his tears from his face. Just markings of weakness. He startled the Cat, who backed away from the imposing form of the Officer.

"But-But what now? You've had your revenge. Amelia...Amelia is gone. One is gone. You own the Steward, you own the whole Train! What more could you want from this place?" she asked, a hint of fear in her voice. Andrew turned and walked away from her, taking the paper of Will and Tulip with him. He walked over to the middle of the skylight and whispered something in his radio. Then he turned back to the Cat with a bright, happy grin on his disheveled face.

"Why, isn't it simple? You told me Amelia wanted her husband back. Well I suppose I'm different. I've made peace with my son's death. But I have not made peace with the things that caused it. The Train may have failed to help my son, but the world broke him first. It was the world that pushed him to this place, and it was the world he couldn't get adjust to. I've had my revenge here, but I have yet to have my revenge on the world. For that I need power. And lucky for me, power is of no shortage here, not to me. You know as well as I, that I shall do what it takes to win, Cat. I will do...whatever it takes," he laughed, his happy grin growing much more evil, much more maniacal. He stood there for a few seconds before the silver tendrils of the Steward dripped down from the skylight, wrapping themselves around the Officer. They yanked him upward and out of the Engine, leaving the Cat alone, and utterly terrified.

Hazy rays of light made their way through the windows of the Third Rail. They glinted off of the mess of metal Will had strewn about the table with little order or organization. Grease was smeared on his cheek and clothing, his hands coarse from winding down wrenches or fusing together machinery. He felt like he was close, extraordinarily close. It could be days, it could be hours, or he could finish right there. For him, at least, machinery was the most unpredictable thing. You could do everything right and fail, or mess everything up and still get it to work. His teachers called him a prodigy, but he thought the basics were just that simple.

He took a break from his work and sat back in the comfy seat, exhausted. He glanced over to the chef's station, but there was no one there. It had been hours since they'd ordered, and even with his monster request, the food should've been out much earlier. Maybe they were letting him work, letting Tulip sleep. He pushed away a stack of piping to look at the dozing redhead. Tulip had one arm outstretched from the seat, her other folded back around under her makeshift pillow. The green light gleamed dully from under the table, the measly 1 barely taking up any space at all. Sometimes he felt jealous of her lack of numbers, but he'd remind himself that she'd done this thing before. It was good to have an expert on his side, or at the very least, someone who wasn't totally inept with the functions of the Train. She'd know what to do in a tight situation, know exactly how to talk to someone, how to get what they needed.

Will didn't exactly understand his feelings towards the perennially named child. Perhaps he was happy to have a friend for once. Sure, he was friendly towards most of the people at his school, and he knew all their names and they knew his, but there was never any real connection, no bonds. His birthdays were always spent with his surrogate father. He never called people, he never looked forward to working with anyone on projects. And, in a sense, he was okay with that. He was fine being solo, sitting alone on the bus, eating alone at lunch. It was his choice, and he was fine with it. Yet, the more time he spent with his redheaded friend, the more his worldview threatened to shatter. To him, Tulip was everything he secretly hoped a friend would be. Supportive, fun, kind, respecting. His world was turned on a dime, and he wasn't just talking about the Train ride. His whole philosophy was cracking, threatening to burst every time he looked at his new friend, every time he laughed with her, every time he laughed at her. He'd never thought of friendship as a burden, or as something less than being alone. He just thought that it wasn't for him, and now, he was suddenly coming to the conclusion that it might be.

Tulip murmured in her sleep, turning over to face Will. For reasons he didn't know, his cheeks started growing warm and red. He wasn't exactly sure what part of friendship it related to, but he felt like he was close to figuring it out. Just a little more time. That's what he needed. More time. More time to fix that ball. More time to determine his feelings towards Tulip. More time to get his food. He was starting to grow considerably hungry.

"Hey, kid," a gruff voice broke Will out of his thoughts. He turned around, coming face-to-face with a very large slice of bacon. It rested a crispy arm on the top of the seat Will was sitting on, his other drumming his even crispier fingers on the table. The bacon definitely didn't look fresh, or even something you'd want to eat. He didn't have eyes, or any facial features for that matter, as did all of the sentient food-people that inhabited the car.

"You got my food?" Will asked, not even trying to hide the contempt in his voice. His stomach growled, as if on cue.

"Nah kid, I got something better," the bacon-man said in his rough accent. It sounded almost New Yorkian? Was it different in this car? New Pork, maybe? Definitely not something he'd heard from somewhere in Denver. "C'mere, I got something I think you should see." He tried to be as persuading as possible, but Will wasn't convinced, at least not yet.

"Why should I?" he questioned. "I'm perfectly content with sitting here, working on this...ball. Besides, I can't leave now. Food'll be coming any second now," Will said, inching a little bit away from the intimidating figure of the bacon-man.

"Please. Just trust me, your food will be fine. It's how this car works. You don't get your food when you want to, you get it when you need to. And right now, you need to come with me, alright?" The bacon-man seemed to look over his shoulder, although Will couldn't be sure. He realized how much he took facial features for granted back home.

"Why should I believe you? I don't even know your name!" he exclaimed. The bacon-man just laughed, a hint of sadness hiding behind it.

"No one really does. Just...you can call me Porky, alright. And you really need to see this. Use your head, kid. If I wanted to hurt you, it wouldn't have been very hard to just do it," Porky told him, trying to appeal to the logical side of the boy. Will thought about it for a moment and slowly got up out of the seat.

"Okay. Just...let's make this quick, alright?"

"You can take me on my word, this won't last long. Just, follow me now," Porky told him, moving away from the booth and moving onto a route only he knew. Will took one last look at the slumbering form of Tulip before striding after Porky.

Porky led Will in a winding path through the restaurant, taking him places he hadn't even noticed when they had first gotten there. As they made their way through the tables Will took notice of the types of inhabitants he started to see. No longer was he in a nice, happy, open area where the sun filtered in through the numerous windows embedded in the walls. This part of the car was a dank, dark corner, where only the most hardened and tough food-people sat. He spotted an oversized kernel of popcorn, a scar running down his faceless face. When he saw Will he clutched his bag of popcorn tightly, perhaps trying to appear more intimidating. It worked. Will made sure to steer far away from the unhinged piece of cooked corn.

Porky ducked into a hallway cutting off from the main room. Will followed, quickly realizing Porky was leading him towards the toilets.

"You wanted to take me to see the bathroom?" Will asked, thoroughly confused. Porky's shoulders shook, and it took Will a few seconds to realize the bacon-man was having a soft laugh.

"Nah, look behind you," Porky told him, pointing at the wall to Will's back. The boy turned and took in the sight. It was a shabby looking piece of work, big block letters nailed near the top.

WALL OF PASSENGERS

Under the letters were a few framed photos with little golden plates under them. There were only five photos, each of them a portrait shot of a different Passenger, someone who presumably made their way through the Diner Car in the past. A few of them were from a much different time, most had been taken in black and white, save for the last two. Both of them showed a teenage child, a boy and a girl, smiling at the camera. The boy reminded Will eerily of himself, although the girl was far from looking like his redheaded friend, the girl's fuzzy golden locks unsecured and pooling around her shoulders.

"What is this?" he asked Porky. The bacon-man acted like he didn't hear him, instead reading off the names on the plates.

"Joshua Marshall and Olivia Stanton. Passed through these parts nearly three decades ago. Nice kids. You know, I was working that night they came in. Used to be assistant griller, wouldn't you know it? Real good kids," Porky repeated, his voice completely going though Will, almost as if the bacon-man was talking more towards the headshots more so than the boy in front of him.

"Alright? Thanks for the info, I guess? But what does this have to do with me?" Will asked, a little more forcefully. He was starting to grow annoyed with the bacon-man.

"They never made it out, Will, was it?" Porky continued, not reacting to Will's questioning. "They're still on the Train, perhaps forever doomed to this life. You might even meet them...how strange." Porky then turned, directly facing Will as much as he could. "My point is this. What's your purpose on this magnificent ride? Joshua and Olivia couldn't answer. You know how they turned out. So what's your answer?" Porky grew even more intimidating, placing his crispy hand on Will's shoulder. Will started to sweat, his annoyance now replaced with fear.

"I-I don't know what you want! You wanted to show me pictures of former Passengers?" Will stammered out. Porky's grip grew tighter.

"I'm asking you a question! Why are you here? What are you going to do? Did you even know there's a rumor spreading down the tracks? You're not exactly the favorite people on the Train, definitely not by the Conductor!" Porky nearly screamed Will's head off.

Down the hall a walking churro strolled out of the bathroom, took one look at Porky and Will, and walked back into the bathroom.

"You wanna' know why I'm here?" Will asked softly. The mood was deathly silent. "Well so do I. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I'm doing. Isn't that the whole point? Tulip told me the Train is about finding yourself. Maybe that's what I'm doing. I'm here to find myself. And whatever's going on with that ball, I'm here for that too. I'm here for my friend." Will told the burned bacon-man. His eyes were narrowed and his voice was strong. For a few moments they stood like that, drenched in awkward anger. Then Porky took his hand off of Will.

"Good answer. Josh and Olivia couldn't tell me that. They couldn't admit to me they just didn't know. I'm glad you can. You're a good kid too Will. I bet your girlfriend is as well," Porky said softly. Will blushed at the last part, his eyes darting to the ground, but his mouth staying silent. He was a little terrified that anything more he said would send Porky into another rage. "I hope you have a good ride. I hope you have a good lunch, too. I think the food's here by now. Definitely seems like the right time, huh? Good luck Will. May you leave this place safely, however long it takes." When Porky was done he gave Will a quick salute before walking down the hallway, dashing right down into the darkness, leaving Will stranded. The boy stood there for a few minutes, taking in what had just happened. The churro from before peeked out from the bathroom, and upon seeing Porky gone, leapt from his hiding spot and ran past Will, back to his seat. He obviously wanted to get as far away from Porky as fast as he could. Will gave a smirk before looking back up at the portraits. The grinning boy stared coldly down upon him.

"Maybe we will meet," Will whispered. He gave it a few seconds before leaving the hallway, walking back to his seat.

Porky was correct in at least one thing. When Will returned to his table he could see the numerous plates stacked around the mess he'd left scattered across the surface. He caught no sign of Monty or Cheese, but he did see his newly awakened redheaded friend. recently. Her hair was unkempt and he rubbed at her eyes.

"Where have you been?" she asked through a yawn.

"Just had to...go to the bathroom," Will told her, sliding into the booth. Tulip either bought the half-lie or didn't care enough to think too hard about it.

Tulip grabbed her fries and water, scarfing them down quickly. Will raised an eyebrow before biting into his burger.

"The...nap made me hungry," Tulip defended herself between bites. Will sighed and pushed one of his milkshakes towards her, something she graciously accepted. They ate in relative silence, Will pushing food as fast as possible before grabbing One-One and attempting to do some more work on him.

"So...I guess we never talked much about who could've done this, you know?" Tulip remarked, pointing a stiff fry at One-One.

"Yeah," Will replied, not exactly giving his full attention to the conversation. "You, uh, have any ideas?" he asked the redhead.

"Well...I was just thinking about that message, the one we got from the Cat, back in the subway?" Tulip said.

"Yeah, yeah, that spooky hologram that came outta' here like R2D2?" Will said absentmindedly. Sparks flew up and startled him, causing him to jump back, annoyed. He reached to his side and pulled on his small welding mask.

"I guess I was just worried about what happened to him. This kind of thing has happened before, back with Amelia, remember? What if...what if I made a mistake leaving her there? What if she did it?" Tulip questioned, visibly shaken. Will looked up and sighed.

"You didn't make a mistake. Giving someone a second chance is never a mistake, and if they don't take advantage of that, it isn't your fault. Besides, didn't the Cat mention someone else, like Andrew?" Will told her, trying to console the redheaded teen. Tulip thought about this for a minute, letting Will get back to work on his little machine.

"I guess...I guess you're right. But if it isn't Amelia, then I have nothing. At least I know something about Amelia. But Andrew, whoever he is, is new. What if he's even more dangerous than Amelia was? I mean...Amelia never did this to One-One…" Tulip tapped her foot impatiently, running both of her hands through her messy hair. Will could sense her nervousness, and he really couldn't blame her that much. Nevertheless, he still tried to reassure her.

"Whoever is up in the Engine, Andrew, Amelia, The Cat herself, it's no use stressing ourselves out about it, right? One thing at a time, you know? If you beat Amelia last time, you can beat her again. And if it's someone else, then we can figure it out together, deal?" Will proposed, giving her a small smile. Tulip returned it, if not with obvious stress still on her mind. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. Will wanted to make her feel better, but he honestly didn't know what to say. Maybe she just needed space, who knows? It was times like these Will wished he knew how girls worked.

Will continued to work on the inner mechanisms of the little white sphere. He was starting to doubt how close he was to really fixing the thing. He had gotten most of the circuitry in place, but a lot of the more sophisticated technology, stuff he'd only seen in quick glimpses of pages in his mechanics textbook the older students were using. He was thinking that maybe they'd need a few more cars like this one, one where he could just sit down and work, and maybe-

Will stopped working. His eyes were locked on a small part of the inside of the former Conductor. How had he missed it before? It seemed so simple now, so...easy!

"Uhh, Tulip?" Will called out to his friend. Tulip didn't move, but responded with a simple reply.

"What?"

"I-I think I might've just fixed One-One," Will stammered out, his hands now furiously moving all over the table, grabbing whatever tools Will thought he would need next. Tulip's eyes snapped open and she gripped the end of the table feverishly.

"What!" she repeated, suddenly extremely attentive to their situation. Will worked like a, well, like a machine, on the machine. His bored, focused mood had been quickly replaced with this frantic, panicky mood that was rapidly setting in.

"It-It was so simple!" Will exclaimed. "I guess I just never notices that this thing's central processor was damaged during whatever incident caused this thing to get so beat up.

"So can you get it working?" Tulip asked excitedly. Will continued to move his hands so fast he was having a hard time making the right corrections in his work.

"I-I don't know! I mean, if I could just-" Will abruptly stopped, prompting Tulip to lift herself up and over the white sphere that Will had been working on for quite some time.

"What, what is it?" the redhead asked, barely containing the pent up energy that had suddenly built up inside of her. Will said nothing, opting only to stand up himself, lifting the former conductor up in front of Tulip's excited face, reddening with every passing second. Will tentatively lifted a single finger, clicked down on the little panel he had been working on. He then took the same finger and brought it around to the small button he had discovered just months ago. He laid it across the all but hidden white circle and took a very deep breath. In return, Tulip puffed out her cheeks to keep from breaking the tension they were both feeling. With what sounded like an orchestra in his ears, William clicked One-One's power button.

After what felt like an eternity, the little white ball jolted with white energy, and quickly sputtered out. Will's redheaded friend slumped back onto her seat, emitting a dejected sigh. Will sat down as well, carefully maneuvering himself as to not collide with any stray mechanical part he had left lying around. They stayed there in silence, Will racking his brain, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He was retracing his moments in Orion, slumped over a desk attempting to solve this very same problem. He had eventually realized there was far too many problems to worry about before the power situation, but that hadn't stopped him from trying. Besides, if it hadn't been for Joe, he never would've even gotten started with the-

Wait. What was it Joe had told him? The piece Will had bought at the shop had been exactly what he needed, but it wasn't sufficient. What had Joe given him, all those days ago? Will squeezed his eyes together in concentration, earning a rather concerned look from his redheaded friend. The boy then suddenly remembered, the thought coming to him like an elusive animal might finally fall into the hands of the hunter. It was the tubing. Technically, they functioned more like large cables, but they looked much more like bulky air tubes you might see above your heads in the local superstore.

When Will realized his mistake, he quickly scrambled to his backpack, shoving aside anything he thought he didn't need. Tulip raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding the feverish nature she was seeing from her brunette friend. Will, undeterred, reached deep into his pack and pulled out his power tubing that had previously served in leading the Steward right to their location back in Orion. Now, it may serve to eventually save both Will and Tulip, not to mention whoever else One-One's assaulter had harmed as well.

Will quickly connected the tubing to a small panel built into the white sphere. He reached over to his backpack and tapped on his built on battery, the power starting to flow directly into the little robot. Tulip suddenly realized what Will was up to, her dejection being quickly replaced by renewed excitement. The mood was instantly reignited, as was One-One. It seemed like forever, those quick little seconds. With breath held and fingers crossed, Will and Tulip curled their respective toes, waiting to see what would happen. Will couldn't tell his friend, but he had no idea what he would do if this failed. There was no more breakthroughs he could see in front of him. All he could was watch. And wait. And listen.

Suddenly, a sound. It pierced through the thickness of the atmosphere, startling the pair. It was a sound that Will couldn't exactly place. A series of staticy beeps and boops. Was that...the dial up internet sound? Then just like that, silence. Nobody moved. Will was sure that even the workers were watching, waiting to see what would happen. And then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Will had always had philosophical thoughts. He often ruminated about how quickly things can change, how little time it can take for an entire situation to be shifted forever. He was thinking about these thoughts when those two little white dots grew upon the black strip that lay over the otherwise solid white ball, when the four little nubs protruded from the bottom, propping the little robot on the linoleum tabletop. Will opened his mouth to speak words that would never be said. His own achievement beat him to the punch.

"Hullo Miss Tulip!"

It was the flashing lights that woke the Cat from her nap, not the alarms. She had lived on the Train her whole life, and thus, she had learned how to sleep through loud noises many years ago. And yet, her Car had contained very little obnoxious devices. Or rather, obnoxious visually. She had yet to learn how to continue her slumber through bright flashes, so it was here that she awoke.

She yawned away the remnants of sleep, rubbing her paws across her yellow slitted eyes. After Andrew's abrupt departure, the Cat found herself with a small bit of freedom. She weighed the pros and cons of attempting an escape, but decided against it. Too many things rested on her position as a sort of "spy" in the Officer's circle. Or perhaps that's just what she wanted to think. Either way, she was still stuck in the Engine. As she waited for her "captor" to return, the Cat had apparently dozed off near the monitor of Andrew's workstation, something he had nabbed from a Car filled with screens and radios. He had it hooked up to several important systems connected to the Train and the Steward, or as he called it, "Monster."

When the Cat emerged from her slumber, the Engine was still empty. No Andrew, no Steward. But that wasn't what caught her attention. She was a bit more drawn to the blaring trumpet sounds that emanated from the flashing red screen. It took but a few seconds for the sight to settle in. The Train had been programmed to send out these types of warnings for generations, but rarely did they ever seem to work. Not for Amelia at least.

The Cat didn't have to read the printed words below the pulsating colors of the monitor. There could only be one option: One-One was awake. The Cat cursed in French. Andrew wouldn't be too thrilled about the news. She wished she could do something, anything of importance. But for now, she was stuck in her makeshift prison. She could only hope. Hope, and pray.

"And then it was a simple matter of turning you back on," Will said to the little ball, scooping a handful of fries from one of the many containers they had ordered as he and Tulip alternated between telling their tale. It had taken barely half a tray for One-One to inform Will and his ginger friend of the situation at the front of the Train. The reality hadn't quite hit them yet, but he was sure they'd make up for it in due time. Whoever this "Kingston" was, Will was sure he couldn't be too much of a threat. Tulip tried to shrug it off for the moment, but her thoughts kept circling back to that climactic fight in the In-Progress Car, pipes clashing against each other. She still had that so-called "Donut Holer," strapped on the inside of her backpack. It brought up the occasional question by authority, but it was worth it.

If he could beat both the Steward and Amelia, there was no telling how powerful he was. One-One couldn't recall any event after his incapacitation, something that prompted Will to speak up about his first experiences with the now active robot. He was certain now that the Cat had somehow managed to escape the confinements of the Train for a brief moment, at least enough to plant the remains of the former Conductor in the snow. They had no way of knowing how safe she was, the last interaction being the voice message back in the subway station. They hadn't heard anything about Amelia. Tulip was relieved that she wasn't the culprit behind these attacks, but feared the worst.

Afterwards, Will and Tulip took it upon themselves to enlighten the adorable little split personality robot. Will quickly picked up on the dual sides of the little thing based on the little comments sprinkled in with its story, not to mention all the little mannerisms and quirks he could observe. Tulip had briefed him about One-One before, but he was still astonished to see him function right in front of him. The types of A.I. within him, it was technology scientists could only dream of back on Earth. He found that thought peculiar. He was being served infinite fries on an infinite train by a giant sentient sandwich, not to mention all the stuff that had already happened to him. Considering all that, advanced A.I. was probably the closest in reach to modern humanity.

They told of their tales of getting to know each other and their situation back in the Flower Car, of their time playing dodgeball with anthropomorphic frogs, riding a hot air balloon above an endless sky, fighting a supervillain in a city ripped straight out of a comic book. One-One hung on to every word spoken, especially if it was spoken by Tulip. Once the white sphere had learned his name, he had immediately taken to calling him, "Mr. William," a name Will neither hated nor loved. Perhaps it would grow on him.

"I must say, I'm rather impressed by your knack for machines Mr. William," the disgraced Conductor said, his voice full of cheer and oozing with praise. "I couldn't say the same for most others," he continued, although Will could sense the shift in tone, almost within the voice itself. Tulip assured him One-One was able to split into two halves, but had been restrained from doing so by the obnoxious tubing running from One-One's negative counterpart, the so-called "Sad-One." "Glad-One" was free from constraints, but apparently was also immobilized. Maybe in a different circumstance, Will would've been able to study the inner workings of the robot just a little more. He almost salivated thinking about it.

"I'm right here!" Tulip jokingly complained, reaching over the little ball and grabbing her own handful of french fries. In response, One-One walked over to Tulip's arm and cupped it with his little nubs from before.

"I'm so glad you've returned Miss Tulip! No one's ever made their way back to the Train before!" One-One told her, his upper white dot squinting in apparent happiness "Congratulations. You're the first prisoner to make their way back to the jail," the monotone voice of Sad-One added, slightly dampening the mood. Tulip didn't care. She lifted One-One as gently as possible, being wary of the large cord extending from his side, and hugged him close to her chest, smooshing him against her green jacket.

"I've missed you too One-One."

"Excuse me?" a voice sounded next to them. Monty had returned, a camera in her spongy hands, both new and old at the same time. "Cheese is over the moon to be able to add you to the Wall of Passengers. It's been ages since the last two wandered through here. I don't think Cheese even remembers." Tulip looked over at Will, still holding One-One in her arms. He gave her a look that said "You'll see," and looked over at Monty. "We'd be honored to be added."

Monty slung the camera over her admittingly large frame, the black metal machine hanging just over where her eyes would be. She clapped her hands and motioned for the pair to follow her through the cafe. Fortunately for Will, he already knew the route to take.

The bathrooms had been curtained off, and a white tarp had been strung over the Ladies Room's door, a stool placed directly in front. While they were following Monty through the winding path between tables, Will had educated Tulip about the Wall of Passengers, claiming he had seen it when he had gone to the bathroom. One-One sat contently on Tulip's shoulder, saying random things as they wandered around the Third Rail. He reminded Will very much of a chatty parrot. A parrot on a leash perhaps. Will had to bring his backpack with them in order for One-One to continue with them. It seems that their quiet duo had suddenly expanded. For better or for worse, Will couldn't yet tell.

"Oh glorious day. I couldn't ever bring myself to even dream of this moment, and here we are. Papa John would be so proud!" Cheese's voice broke up a little near the end, and he brought a globby arm up to wipe away a drop of grease that had pooled over a chunk of cheese, almost as if he was brushing away a stray tear.

"Ladies first," Tulip stuck her tongue out at Will, plucking the little ball from her shoulder and placing it in his outstretched hands. One-One gazed up at the boy's face, which in turn, looked down upon the robot.

"Are you her boyfriend?" Glad-One asked excitedly. Will took a deep breath and sighed away the frustration.

"I'm sick of hearing that in these bathrooms," he grumbled.

"If you break her heart, I'll send you to the Fart Car and lock the doors," Sad-One continued, to which he got no response. Meanwhile, Tulip had been instructed by Cheese to sit upon the stool, face Monty with camera in hand, and smile. Simple enough. Not much different to picture day at school, now that she thought about it. While she prepared herself, Will caught a glimpse of a familiar sentient pig product creeping around the corner. When Porky caught sight of Will, he quickly ducked back, leaving Will with even less favorable feelings about the sleazy piece of bacon.

When Tulip was done, she exchanged both backpack and ball with Will, it now being his time to stick his own tongue out at her, which received an exaggerated eye roll.

"I wish you could see these developed and hung," Cheese lamented to them after the ceremony had finished. "But we have to send them to a shop a few Cars down. It'll take at least a week for Porky to make it to and from there." Upon hearing about this, Tulip snapped her fingers and looked up at the tiled ceiling.

"That's right, the Portrait Car!" Tulip recalled the relatively calm Car, filled with nothing but stock pictures of random people, all of different sizes and different poses. She hadn't spotted anyone other than the two of them, but that didn't mean they didn't exist.

"Indeed," Cheese attempted to nod, the tip of his slice flapping like hair in the wind. "For now, I feel it is best for you to be on your way. Your journey awaits young legionnaires! Perhaps you too will have stories so grand to tell that there will be a salad for you," Cheese said.

"Preferably without the stabbing to death part," Monty quickly added, to which the four of them agreed. Or maybe just three. Will wasn't sure how adverse to stabbing his new morbid friend would be.

They made their way to their table, collecting their things. Will had attempted to pull what little money he had left in his wallet, but Cheese wouldn't accept it. "It's on the house," he claimed. Will wasn't hesitant to take advantage of that, packing his things as quickly as possible before Cheese changed his mind.

Will rolled his suitcase up to the double red doors. Somehow he knew the doors were unlocked. Perhaps it had something to do with the sphere of white that currently resided on top of his head, nestled in his hair. He strongly doubted it. He paused before taking grasp of the doors, taking one long last glance around the Car.

"Go on honey," Monty called out to the boy, her southern accent making one last appearance. Will gave her an emotional nod before turning back around, coming to face with a certain redhead. Tulip was attempting to stifle a laugh as she stared up at the ball seated upon his head. One-One was busy recounting a dream he had had during his time temporarily disabled. It involved a giant "Miss Tulip," and a thousand baby "Atticus'." Will remembered the corgi from his time talking to Tulip. She had fond memories of the pup. Will had his doubts about whether or not they would ever meet.

"So. You got your wish, huh? Was it worth it?" Tulip questioned, a smirk on her face. Will picked up One-One from his head and held the little white sphere in front of him. One-One gave no pause to his epic tale.

"I'm not sure. He seems to be exactly what I thought it would be like having a baby brother," Will admitted, looking down at the robot. Tulip nodded thoughtfully.

'That's a cool way of looking at it," she complimented him. "He'll get on your nerves, but he's real great. Trust me." Will smirked at that.

"I suppose you haven't steered me wrong before…" Tulip reached next to her, palming the glossy golden metal of the door handle. Will did the same, but not before setting One-One carefully into his backpack. He gave no resistance.

"Whatever it takes?" Tulip said for the second time in that car. Will gave a comedic grimace.

"I'm starting to think that means much more than I intended it to," Will moaned. Tulip gave a laugh, which added a little color to both of their cheeks. "Whatever it takes."

This time, the doors twisted open, revealing the speeding wasteland all around them. Will gave one last look behind him before letting the doors shut behind him. For once, things were looking clear, if not bad. He was certain they could make it through. After all, what could ever beat them?

Porky heard the doors click behind him, sliding into place. This particular car was much more hospitable than the one that lay behind him. The Woodgrain Car, while covered in sawdust, had no obvious predators, no gun people chasing him for sustenance, no hostile desert environment. Just an endless sea of cupboards and cabinets. It gave him a bit of time to stretch his crispy limbs, to shake out the sand he'd ended up coated with during his time in the Revolutionary Car. It also gave him time to be easily snuck up on.

"Is it true?" a voice called out from a few meters behind Porky. The not-so-little slice of bacon spun around as quickly as possible, dropping the sack filled with camera equipment. His assignment had nothing involving self defense, so all he could do to protect himself from his stalker was to hold his crumbly fists up in their direction.

"Is it true?" the voice repeated, its agitation growing quickly. A moment later, no one else but Andrew Kingston placed a gloved hand on the wood finish of a rather large coffee table. He wore a dark red robe that pooled upon the dusty browned floor. A focused gaze behind the Officer could spot the silvery tendrils of the Steward wrapping around several wooden banister poles in a sloping staircase. Bright pools of fire gazed back though the darkness.

"Is-is what true?" Porky questioned, clearly terrified. He didn't get paid enough for this.

"You told me you saw it. Online. The Steward confirms your claims. Now I want you to confirm them as well." Andrew absentmindedly started rubbing at an unfinished spot on a dresser to his right.

"I didn't realize how much you valued my opinion," Porky said sarcastically. "Course it's true. I've never told a lie in my life!"

"That's a lie in and of itself, pork chop." Andrew let out a long sigh. "This day isn't going very well, you know?"

"Tell me about it," Porky mumbled under his breath. Three conductors in less than a year. His loyalty had never been as strong as any of the others in his car. He just liked to serve those in power, no matter how short lived their reign may be. It would end up getting him killed eventually. Maybe even now.

Andrew made his way over to the oversized pork product, causing him to flinch in reaction. But the Officer had no intentions of punishing the sentient food item. At least, not today. He reached down and picked up the black sack Porky had so carelessly tossed aside in his terror. He pulled out the metal and plastic contraption and lifted it up to his face.

"How many others will be like you?" Andrew asked without meeting Porky's eyes. Not that he could if he wanted.

"You mean subservient? Disloyal?" Porky scoffed. Andrew simply narrowed his eyes. but continued to work on the camera until he found the picture he wanted. He shoved it in the general area he thought Porky's face would be.

"People who would be willing to help me catch these two." If Porky had eyes, they'd be staring right at the face of William Turner, with the implied Tulip Olsen hanging close behind. Porky only laughed.

"Those two may be the smartest Passengers ever to board this Train my Conductor. You'd have better luck trying to catch the Sliver Minister."

Andrew let out a loud groan and rubbed his forehead with his ungloved hand. He looked down at the picture of a smiling Will.

"Just my luck."