Summary: AU/time traveling. Everyone knows who Sven Vollfield is. He's the world's best sweeper, of course. But, who is this kid who's following him? And, the Black Cat? Who is that? No pairings. Mangaverse.

Things you need to know about this fanfic:

- I am basing this on the manga. (The anime and the manga have drastically different plots.)

- I am using the English spellings of Japanese words. For instance, I'll be using "Echidna" instead of "Eckidonna" and "Janus" instead of "Jenos". Black Cat seems to be based in a universe that seems more English than Japanese, seeing as most of the characters are Caucasian. Japanese suffixes such as –kun and –chan will not be used unless there is no cool-sounding English equivalent for it.

- I have created OCs in here, but they are only for plot purposes and will not be playing a main part in my story. They are my property, and any similarities between them and any licensed characters of any book, movie, anime, manga, etc. are purely of coincidence.

- There will be no pairings in this story. If you want to interpret any part to a specific pairing, that's fine; but as for me, I will try to keep this as general in romance as possible. (Some personalities however, such as Janus's, are flirtatious in nature and will not be changed.)

- I will try to keep the characters in character as much as possible. Let me know if any characters are drastically out of character.

Disclaimer: Black Cat is not mine, and this story is only for entertainment purposes. I am making no money off of this story.

Enjoy!

Turn Back the Shards of Time

By alolha123

Creed tumbled down the side of the roof of his hideout, too tired to resist gravity. His mind blanked, and he barely felt his body crash into the hard, ceramic roof tiles as he fell towards the dark abyss on the edge of the roof.

As quick as he could and without knowing exactly why, Train dashed down the roof and grabbed Creed's hand just as he was about to fall off. Train gasped for breath. He couldn't pull Creed back up - that Blast Railgun had taken everything out of him. All he could do was stay in that position and wait for help to come.

"Why..." Creed croaked hoarsely. "Why are you saving me?"

Train's gaze softened. "You have to live, Creed. Live and regret... Move on."

"I - I can't," Creed said dejectedly, gazing directly into Train's eyes. "I can't..."

"I know you can," Train said. "I know... because I myself did, two years ago... When Saya saved me."

Creed didn't reply, but lowered his head. Silence reigned in the atmosphere. Then, Creed lifted his head. "Train... I -"

He was cut off suddenly when the roof beneath them gave a lurch. Both of the men's eyes widened. "Creed... What was that?" Train asked.

"I - I don't know," the blond man replied. "That last attack... it must've done something to the roof."

The roof began to quiver, and soon it began to shake. "But I fired it at your sword!" Train protested desperately. If the roof was going to collapse, they would most certainly fall to their death.

"The roof was specially made!" Creed shouted over the din. "I do all of my experiments inside this building, Train. I had to make sure the roof wouldn't let energy through! That Blast Railgun must have overloaded its resistance!"

"Oh, so you're blaming it on me?" Train shot back dryly. I've got to get Creed up. I can't take the chance that I'd drop him. "Here, I'll pull you up! Hold on tightly!"

Slowly, Train pulled Creed up. Hand after hand, the man rose. Only one more foot or so to go, Train thought. "Come on! Grab my hand!" He held out his other hand.

Just as Creed was about to grasp it, the roof's shaking increased rapidly. "I can't do it!" Creed cried out. "I can't grab it! Train! Let me go!"

"No!"

"Let me go!" Creed repeated urgently. "Even if I fall to my death, the nanomachines will rebuild me! If you fall, you will die!"

"But you might hit your head, Creed! I'm not going to take that chance!" Train reached for Creed's other hand. Almost... Almost there...

The roof gave another jerk and Train felt himself falling forward. No! His eyes widened along with Creed's. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He can't die! He needs to live on! Gritting his teeth, he swung the hand holding Creed up, onto the rooftop.

Creed crashed onto the roof, and his hands immediately latched onto the roof tiles for dear life. "Train!" He cried out as the dark-haired man lost his balance on the edge.

"Train!"

Train gazed back, one last time, before falling off of the roof. He closed his eyes.

Saya... I'm coming...

Darkness.

-

"Train..."

S... Saya?

"Train..."

Saya! Saya! I'm here! It's me! Why can't I move my lips?

"Train, you... aren't supposed to be here yet..."

What? I'm... not supposed to be here? Please, tell me why!

"I ca..."

Saya?

"Train, Train..."

Saya! Don't... Don't leave me! Come back!

"I'm sor..."

Saya!

"...rain..."

-

His head hurt. Everything hurt. His limbs ached, his head throbbed, and his throat was dry. Was he dead? He'd died from the fall from the roof, right? He'd met Saya, too, except that she hadn't said much besides his name, and that wouldn't help him discover where he was.

Saya... how he wished he could see her again! She had helped him fire that Blast Railgun, and she had enforced it, too. It didn't matter what the others thought; he knew that she had helped him.

He didn't want to die. Sven and Eve were still fighting Echidna, and though they were probably just fine, Train would've liked to see them again, just to confirm. Just once. If he knew that his friends - and Creed - were okay, then he would be fine.

Open, eyes, open!

Train cracked open his eyes. Blackness. It was nighttime, or he was in some closed-off room.

A gentle breeze brushed his brown locks across his forehead. Nighttime.

Coughing, Train licked his lips. They were hot and dry, and blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, but that was the least of his worries. Was he bleeding internally? Creed had blown him into the tower, and the injuries from that were most certainly serious. He probably would've collapsed, too... but he was the Black Cat, and his luck didn't run out as easily as that.

Besides, he wasn't quite at his ninth life yet.

Slowly, Train pushed himself onto his hands and looked around. It was nighttime, but a full moon allowed him to see around. There was mostly savannah, actually. Countless patches of grass grew on many smooth, rolling hills. He was at the bottom of one of the larger hills.

He felt his holster. His gun was there, and he frowned immediately, taking it out. It was whole again. That was strange. Hadn't it been ripped up by the Blast Railgun? Furthermore, why was it in his holster? Had someone put it there? If that was the case, there was a high possibility that they had taken something from him. Train felt around, but strangely, nothing had been taken. That was weird.

He tapped Hades and listened to the sound. "It's... Orihalcon?" he muttered. That was strange. Not only had the gun been repaired, but also repaired with Orihalcon?

Groaning in pain, he slowly turned over and half crawled up the hill. It took almost all of his energy to even get up there, and he collapsed at the top. Now, he could see further, though it did little. The grass spread out in all directions much farther than he had originally thought, but thankfully there was a road not too far away. It looked deserted, but a road would lead to somewhere, so that was the way he had to go.

Man, Train thought to himself. How on earth did I get from Creed's hideout to the middle of nowhere?

Pushing himself up, Train rose to his aching feet. Now, he felt worse than ever. Swaying slightly, he began the slow trek to the road. His steps were uneven and slow, but eventually the brown-haired sweeper reached the dirt road.

So, if I continue on this road in whichever direction, I'll eventually reach somewhere, right? He thought. And, if any cars come this way, I can hitch a ride. Or steal a car, he thought mischievously as his characteristic cat-like grin came over his face.

Humming a cheery tune, he began the walk on his right. He'd never seen this place before, so the right or left direction didn't really matter much.

As he walked on, Train wondered absently, How did I get here? Maybe Creed got angry with me and dumped me out in the middle of nowhere. He chuckled at the thought. Though, with the way he's obsessed with me, I doubt that would happen. Maybe this is an illusion, he thought, but then dismissed the idea. The pain is real, he thought wryly. That can't be an illusion.

He continued to think of his friends and his whereabouts as he walked on, and soon it was daybreak. Barely peeking over the crests of the hills, the sun shone its bright light over the landscape, casting dark shadows behind the hills. It sure is nice in the mornings, Train smiled. What a contrast from Creed's hideout.

The morning was just right, wasn't it? The perfect contrast between the shadows and the light, the artistic blend of green and countless other colors that couldn't be described, the fresh crispness of the air...

Hm. Funny. Since when did the birds beep like a car's horn?

Train turned around quickly to see a car rapidly approaching him. Grinning, he started to wave at it frantically. He could hitchhike a ride to the next city! "Hey!" he called out.

The car came closer and closer, giving no indication that it would stop for him. Train frowned. Such a lack of manners. "Hey!" he called out again. "Are you blind? I'm standing here!"

The car neared closer and closer, and Train readied himself to jump out of their way at the last second. The headlights blared themselves at him, and he diverted his gaze to something darker. With his sharp vision, his eyes could be easily damaged from lights.

Ah! The license plate! Wait, didn't he… know that license plate?

Train froze. He did. That was... That was -

The car beeped loudly before crashing into Train. The sweeper flew back a few feet, and flipped over before skidding to a halt. The car veered off the side of the road before screeching to a stop. Dust trailed behind the car, having been kicked up by the rubber tires.

"Hey!" the man shouted as he kicked the door open, clearly frustrated. "Don't you know better than to stand in the middle of the road?" His dark eye widened as he saw that Train was standing. "Didn't... Didn't I hit you?" he asked confusedly, though more to himself.

Train didn't answer, but stared at him instead. The man, a bit unnerved by the intensity of his golden eyes, took a step backwards. "What?" he asked.

"Sven..." Train murmured dazedly.

-

Sven cocked his head. "Yeah?" he asked. It wasn't uncommon for people to know him. But, why was this man calling him by his first name so familiarly?

"You... You're here, too..." the man trailed off.

"Er..." How was he supposed to respond to that? Say, 'Yeah, I'm here. So what?'

In the blink of an eye, the man had somehow gotten right in front of his face. "Sven! Are you okay? Did Creed get you, too? Or was it that Echidna woman?" A large, cat-like grin was on his face.

"Er... I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Creed or Echidna... You must have the wrong Sven." Creed? Echidna? Who in their right minds would name their children those?

The man gave him a funny look. "Are you okay, Sven? Did you bump your head?" In a flash, the man had taken off Sven's hat and was looking carefully at his head.

Grabbing his hat back, Sven growled, "Don't you know better than to take off the hat of a complete stranger?"

The brown-haired man stopped, and then started laughing. "What?" Sven asked, irritated. This man was getting on his nerves.

"That's a good one, Sven," he chuckled. When he saw Sven's perfectly serious face, he frowned. "That wasn't a joke?" he asked confusedly.

"No," Sven gritted out. It took everything in his power not to just hit the man and leave him behind, but that wouldn't be very gentlemanly.

The man stared at him with those golden eyes again, and then he shook his head. "You must have hit your head, Sven. Do you remember anything?" he asked, concerned.

This was getting weirder and weirder by the second. "Who are you?" Sven asked, ignoring his question.

The man recoiled, as if hit. "You don't remember me?" he asked indignantly. "Are you kidding? Train Heartnet! Don't you even remember your partner?"

"My... partner?" Sven asked. He didn't work with anyone. There had been a few propositions, but he had never actually accepted anyone. And if this... Train... had proposed, he would certainly have remembered him.

"You don't even remember your partner?" Train asked incredulously. "Man, Echidna must have done a number on you!"

"I told you, I don't know this 'Echidna' or this 'Creed', so stop asking." Sven gritted out impatiently. He had to be in the next town by noon, and this 'Train' was just delaying him. Was he one of his enemies? He didn't seem like that type of person... Besides, he would've attacked long ago. But who was he?

"What about Eve?" Train asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Eve? Who is Eve?" If he had ever met a woman named Eve, he would have remembered her. A gentleman didn't forget ladies' names, after all.

Train fell silent. "You must really be hurt. I mean, you don't remember me or Eve? That's not the Sven I know."

"Exactly." Sven started walking back to his car. He had no time for this. "I'm not the Sven you know."

-

I'm not the Sven you know. Train was absolutely and utterly confused. Why did Sven keep on denying it? It was obvious that he had lost some of his memory in the fight with Echidna. Wouldn't he... know that he had lost memories?

And, to not even know himself or Eve? They were his best friends, for goodness' sake! It was impossible!

And yet, none of this made any sense. Sven didn't know him, and he was driving out in the middle of nowhere without a scratch on him. That didn't make any sense. Even if time had passed while Train had been unconscious, Sven wouldn't have forgotten him or Eve. So why...?

I'm not the Sven you know. Those words kept echoing in his head. Why did that strike him as strange? He thought it over carefully, using the knowledge he had gotten from his years in Chronos. Not the Sven... I know? How is that possible? Is it possible that there are more Svens?

Train mused over the possibility. Not the... Sven... If, theoretically, this was a different Sven... was it possible that this was a twin of Sven who was, coincidentally, named the same? But still, that didn't explain the eye patch or the car. They were too similar. How did this work out?

Another Sven... Another... world? Another universe? Another reality, which ran parallel with his original world, and yet differently? Train's mind raced wildly with the possibility. Then... I did die when I fell off of Creed's hideout? And somehow, I got to another universe?

"Train, you... aren't supposed to be here yet..." Saya's words. Was it possible that, because he wasn't supposed to die yet, he was given a second chance at life in another world? Was that it?

It all fit.

He had died when he had fallen off of Creed's roof. He had somehow gotten to this alternate universe. And now, he had encountered this Sven, who knew nothing of him. Then, in this reality, I never met Sven at that small town?

Train snapped back to the present. He would figure that out later. Meanwhile - he couldn't let Sven drive away!

He ran up to the oh-so-familiar car just as Sven started the engine. "Hey!" he called out over the din.

"What?" Sven asked, clearly annoyed.

"I'm sorry for that last confusion. You were right - I mistook you for another Sven I know. Sorry about that." It was a lie, but Train couldn't just say that he came from another universe, right? "Can... Can you give me a ride to the next town? Wherever you're going?" he asked hopefully.

"No." Sven replied flatly.

"Please? Pretty please?"

"No."

"But... it's such a long walk, and I don't know if I can make it that far." Train sniffed pitifully, and widened his eyes to make them even more cat-like.

Sven seemed immune to his cat-like looks, but his gaze traveled down, to his ripped and bloody clothes, and up, to his bruised face and blood-caked hair. His eye widened as they came upon the trickle of blood dribbling out of Train's mouth and then his bleeding chest. He finally noticed my state, Train thought, relieved. He frowned. "You sure got into a bad fight," he observed.

Train rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah," he laughed. "Sure did."

"What did you do?"

"Uhhh..." What could he say? Saying that it was Creed Diskence was certainly out of the question... "I... forgot. You see, I kind of bumped my head really hard," he motioned to his head, "and I don't remember anything."

Sven frowned as doubt crossed his face, but then the golden-haired man sighed. "Hop in the passenger seat." He jerked a thumb towards his side.

"Thanks!" Train gave the man another of his cat-like smiles before crossing behind the car and getting into the passenger's front seat.

The car rumbled, and it sped up the small incline and onto the road with surprising speed. Train supposed that it was him who was mostly responsible for the other car's lack of speed, seeing that it was almost always him who got them into trouble, but the car had gotten destroyed, anyway, right?

He leaned back. Where were his friends? Where was Creed? Where was that other world? Where was Saya? Would he ever see them again? It hurt, really. He was alone in this world, as much as he knew.

But he couldn't dwell on this; it would only get him down, and as he so often reminded himself, cats had to survive, and thinking about these things would distract him from the present. More importantly, where was the Train Heartnet of this world? He desperately hoped he still wasn't in Chronos. That would make a lot of awkward questions arise.

He had to be extremely careful while dealing with Sven, because there was no doubt that the gentleman would ask him about his past. And if his and this world's Train's pasts contradicted each other, it wouldn't end well for him.

And the last thing he wanted was to anger the Chronos's Black Cat.

-

Some time had passed without talk, and suddenly Train took a deep breath. Sven looked at him inquisitively. "What was that for?" he asked, curious despite his gentlemanly behavior. Train was truly an enigma. Whether he was a good enigma or a bad one, only time would tell. But for now, and judging on first impressions - not that first impressions really counted - he was okay by Sven's book, though he had asked a lot of strange questions at first.

"Hm?" Train's cocked his head at him. "What was what for?"

"The deep breath you just took." This guy was a deep thinker, wasn't he? Sven thought.

"Oh, that." Train frowned. "I was just thinking about how hungry I was. You know, I've been on the side of that road for who knows how long..." his voice trailed off, and Sven took the hint.

"I have some food in the back, if you want," Sven offered casually. "I bought it yesterday; help yourself to it."

Sven thought he had never, ever, ever seen anyone so excited about food.

And about twenty minutes later, Sven promptly decided to never let Train near his food again, once he replenished his empty supply.

-

"Hey, do you have any milk?" Train asked suddenly, his cat-like features lighting up in the prospect of his favorite drink.

"No, I don't drink milk." Sven answered shortly, still steaming over the loss of a whole week's worth of food.

"Awww," Train sighed and sank into his seat.

"How about," Sven said, "you tell me about yourself, in payment for all of that food you just ate? And, tell me about that 'XIII' mark, too."

Train's happy expression disappeared instantly, like a candle snuffed out. A serious face replaced it, and he straightened himself. "Myself..." he trailed off, more to himself. What could he say? He couldn't say that he was the Black Cat, just in case there was another Train Heartnet in this world.

"I..." He would just have to make something up. He took a deep breath. "Well, there's not much to say. I was born in one of the small towns on the edge of the continent, and I learned to fight from my dad and a few other relatives." There, that would take care of his skills. "And a year ago, at the age of twenty-two, I left my home and wandered around after both of my parents died from some sickness." He shrugged. "Not much after that."

Sven said nothing, and Train fervently hoped that he believed it. After a long silence, Sven asked, "And what about the 'XIII' near your neck? How do you explain that?" His voice was cutting.

Train laughed, his serious demeanor vanishing. "That was a couple of friends' joke," he said. "We heard about the Time Guardians, and I got it." Then he stopped suddenly. Time Guardians. There were Time Guardians here, weren't there? It had just slipped out. How would he explain his way out of it if there weren't any Time Guardians?

Seemingly not noticing his panic, Sven nodded. "I'll admit that that number of yours startled me. I thought you were a Time Guardian at first."

So there were Time Guardians! Train grinned in relief. "Yeah, I try to cover it up so that people won't mistake me as one..."

"Why don't you have it removed?" Sven asked.

"Well..." Train shrugged. "My mom always said that it looked really neat and that it suited me." He left it at that. The less information Sven had, the less there would be to trip him up later.

Sven seemed to take that. "I see," he muttered.

"Ah, what is the next town?" Train asked, changing the subject.

"The next town's name is Goat Town. There's this man that I'm after - his name is Parodem Lordens. I'm a sweeper, actually. One of the best," Sven said proudly.

"Oh, really?" Train faked his excitement and hid his snicker. Sven was so proud in this universe. The Sven back home would've never acted so proudly. "That's so cool! So what do you do? Hunt bad guys?"

"Yep, that's what we do. We capture criminals for money. This guy's an A-class, so he's worth 65 million."

"Wow! That's so much!"

"Yep."

"Do you always hunt guys that pay this much? You must be rich!"

"Ah, well..."

"You are! That's so cool!"

"Yeah, well..."

"What will my friends say when I tell them that I met a rich sweeper?"

"..." Sven grinned weakly.

Train hid another snicker. Sven's ego was so fun to feed.

-

"Hey," Train said suddenly, after his barrage of questions was over. "Are you famous?"

"Famous?" Sven echoed. "What makes you think that?"

"Well," Train leaned back, "you didn't seem at all surprised when I called you by your first name, even though we've never met before. By the way," he added, "I know your name from a friend. Said he'd seen you before a couple of time. Not you in person, but heard… sort of…"

Sven glanced at Train from the corner of his eye. He looked like a perfectly normal kid, but his observation skills were something else. "You noticed?" he asked, only half feigning surprise. "Well, yeah. I'm a bit of a legend, actually."

Train's surprise was genuine, Sven noted. He continued. "Yeah, I'm pretty well-known in the world of sweepers… and beyond," he added. "I've been in the sweeper business for three years, but before that I was an IBI agent. I've hunted top criminals from the beginning, but the one that made me famous was Stephen Marconi."

"Huh? Who's that?" Train cocked his head curiously.

"He is – or rather, was – one of the heads of this company that was siphoning off of another company. They were pretty big, too – their company was going international when I caught him."

"Hm," Train sat back.

Sven narrowed his eyes but returned his gaze to the road again. Train didn't seem fazed at all. It was as if he expected Sven to have done something like that. Train was an enigma, all right.

He was just about to ask Train about it when Train suddenly burst out, "Hey! Is that Goat Town?" Train gave no indication that he had just heard that Sven had captured a criminal and exposed an international scam.

Putting that aside, though, Sven turned to answer Train's question. "Yeah, that's Goat Town. Er… there's a hotel, over there." He pulled his car next to the curb in front of the hotel. "Strange, the town seems absolutely deserted…" he muttered mostly to himself. "You don't have anything, do you?" he asked Train.

The brunette shook his head. "Just the clothes on my back," he said in a sing-song voice.

"And your gun?" Sven asked with fake casualness.

Train, startled, stared up at him. "You could see it?" he asked, bewildered.

The man nodded shortly.

Train sighed. "Yeah, and a gun." He took it out, and Sven's eye widened. He'd never seen a gun like that before. It was pitch-black, with 'XIII' inscribed on one side in white. It was larger than a regular gun, and he guessed it held about six or so bullets. It was truly a beauty.

"That," Sven breathed, "is not a normal gun." His eye turned on Train, suspicious. "And I suppose your friends bought that gun for you and carved 'XIII' on the barrel?" he asked cuttingly.

"Yep!" Train's expression brightened. "That's it! My pride and joy," he said, rubbing the barrel of the gun affectionately.

Sven didn't say anything, and proceeded to take his suitcase out of the trunk of the car. Outwardly, he showed nothing; inwardly, he was rattled to the core. What type of country kid carried a black gun with the inscription 'XIII' on it around, with the excuse that his friends gave it to him? A custom-made gun was not only tremendously expensive, but that certain type of gun took years and years of practice to wield. It was unbelievable. Impossible. Utterly impossible.

This Train person might be more dangerous than he let on.

"Come on," Sven urged. "Let's go inside."

Train followed him happily, humming some sort of a jig. "Sure!" he agreed.

If Train, this outwardly happy-go-lucky guy, was actually some sort of criminal or high-level sweeper… what could he do to Sven? What did he want with him?

IBI former investigator Sven Vollfied would not rest until he found out.

-

Train awoke to the smell of cooking. It smelled delicious, and his cat-like senses tingled with delight. He yawned and sat up. "Hey, Sven! I didn't know you cooked! What are you cooking?"

The blond man didn't turn around, but replied, "Yeah, I cook as a side hobby. I'm cooking eggs. Thanks to a certain someone, we don't have anything but eggs to eat for the next few days."

"Come on!" Train whined. "That was only because I couldn't crack the shell and eat it! And I didn't want to get dirty! Besides, raw eggs are disgusting." He crossed his arms as a pout settled on his face.

Sven paused before saying, "I made fried eggs, so you'd better enjoy them. I tried to wake you up earlier, but you kept sleeping."

Train grinned, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Heh, I'm a heavy sleeper when I want to be." Then, he cocked his head. "Where are we going today?" he asked.

Sven turned around and crossed his arms. "I am going to go obtain information about Parodem. You are going to stay here."

"Aww!" Train complained. "Why do I have to stay here? I can fight, too!"

Sven went back to his cooking. "I was originally going to drop you off here, but in a town like this, I don't want to. I found out from the innkeeper that Parodem terrorized the townsfolk into hiding. They rarely even come out anymore." A silence passed, and then Sven suddenly added, "I heard that some of his followers killed the sheriff last week. They cut him to shreds."

The mood instantly soured, and Train's expression became serious. "Then if this Parodem guy is as bad as you say, you're going to need some help."

"I don't need help, Train. I work alone."

"This Parodem guy doesn't work alone, does he? Therefore, isn't it logical to also have more than yourself on your side?"

Sven stopped. He hadn't thought of it that way. Still, his pride refused help. "I used to be an IBI agent. I can defeat Parodem by myself."

"And I have no doubt of that. I'm just wondering whether you can defeat Parodem and all of his lackeys by yourself." Train leaned back. "But, if you want to go waltz into an abandoned factory all by yourself, that's fine with me."

"What?" Had he heard right? An abandoned factory? "How do you know about the abandoned factory?" Sven asked suspiciously.

He thought he saw a flash of panic flitter across Train's eyes, but then the brown-haired man shrugged. "That's where criminals usually are, aren't they?" he asked slowly. "You know. The cliché abandoned factory."

"Right," Sven responded flatly. Of course he wouldn't believe that. More proof that Train wasn't actually a country kid. In fact, even if Train had grown up in a city like he himself had, he still wouldn't be normal.

"Oh," Sven added suddenly, remembering something. "Stop calling me 'Sven' so familiarly."

"Hm?" Train cocked his head. "Why not?" A sly grin spread slowly over his face. "Should I call you 'Vollfied-sama' instead?"

Caught off guard, Sven stuttered, "Eh? – Uhh…"

"Or maybe 'Sven-sama?'" Train's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"'Sven… sama?!'" Sven choked out.

"Or maybe – "

"No. Just… nevermind."

"… How about Sven-chan?"

"No way! … You know what? I like just plain old 'Sven' better, okay? So you can just call me that."

"Okay, Sven."

Sven's eye twitched long after he had finished cooking and left the hotel.

-

Three days later, Sven ventured off to the abandoned factory where Parodem Lordens and his gang resided. Train had bugged him about going and taking him along, but Sven had refused. Though, thinking back on it, taking Train probably would've been a good idea; he would have been able to see Train's abilities, finally.

However, his gentlemanly behavior had refused even the slightest possibility of Train getting hit. As confusing as the boy was, during the last four days he had somehow grown used to him, even with that gun as a potential threat. It actually seemed strangely right. Before, Sven had always been alone. Now, though, Sven had a talking machine next to him.

Holding his hat down with one hand while he strode towards the building through the intense wind and heat, Sven gripped his suitcase tighter. Why did he feel so apprehensive about this? He had fought these types of criminals before – even harder ones. He was Sven Vollfied, for goodness' sake! The famous sweeper known across all three continents! And yet, something didn't feel right. It seemed that something very bad was going to happen…

A chilling voice suddenly spoke into his ear. "If you are a rat or a nice woman… we will give you a warm welcome…"

Sven jumped back fifteen feet in surprise. "Parodem Lordens," he whispered.

"A man," Parodem laughed. "Well, that's no fun."

Since when did he… Sven turned to see a multitude of thugs came out of the shadows. His eyes widened.

"Too bad for you, we heard from the people of Goat Town that a sweeper had been asking around about us for the last few days," one of the lackeys cackled.

"What?" Sven exclaimed, a sickening feeling in his gut. He should have listened to Train.

"Not all of the people are scared of us," Parodem grinned. "They help us out because they want to live. And look what we have here! The oh-so-famous Sven Vollfied."

This isn't good, Sven thought. He pressed a small button on one of the many contraptions that he'd made and smoke began pouring out. Quickly, Sven ran to the exit, but before he could get there Parodem had appeared in front of him and knocked him backwards.

"You think you can get away?" Parodem laughed evilly.

That's what I'd expect from an A-class criminal, Sven thought as he readied himself to fight. He wouldn't be tricked easily like that. I can't use the Visionary Eye, because against multiple enemies it is useless. Besides, it drains my energy fast, and I don't think I could last against all of these criminals.

"I'll give you a glass eye," Parodem cocked his gun.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the doorway. "What do you think you're doing, Parodem?" There, in the doorway, stood Train with his black-ornamented gun cocked and ready to fire.

"Another one?" Parodem laughed. "I'll kill you just like I'm going to kill this guy."

"Not so," Train replied lightly. "I've come…" his golden eyes narrowed, "to bring you a present of bad luck."

While Parodem's attention was on Train, Sven dashed forward and sent him flying with a roundhouse kick. Thanks, Train, was his silent appreciation. Opening his briefcase, he pointed the gun at Parodem and shot his shoulder to incapacitate but not kill.

Train ran past Sven and a gunshot rang out. Four lackeys fell down, their shoulders or thighs steaming from a single shot. Sven widened his eyes, alarmed. Didn't I hear just one gunshot? How is it that four… Train is not normal. That takes years and years of practice.

With a sudden cry, Parodem lifted himself off of the ground and ran at Sven, who blocked the incoming punch with his briefcase and landed a swift uppercut on Parodem's chin, knocking him out. Parodem is taken care of. Now, I'll help Train with the rest of the lackeys –

He turned around.

Every one of the lackeys was down.

Train stood in the midst of them, grinning and holding his steaming gun.

"What was that?" Sven asked, suspicious.

The brunette shrugged. "Just something I learned a while ago," was his vague answer. "Why don't you call the police, Sven?" he suggested.

As Sven made the call, his mind could not but help stay on the subject of Train Heartnet, whose gunning skills – so far – were rivaled by none other.

Besides himself.

-

"Why didn't you kill any of them?" Sven asked Train as they were packing up.

"Hm?" Train cocked his head, confused. "Was I supposed to?"

"No," Sven said hastily. If there was anything he didn't want Train to do, it was that. But he wondered why. "Just…" he trailed off, hoping that Train caught the hint.

A pause. Then, Train said softly, "I'm not very fond of killing."

"That's good," murmured Sven, and the other silently agreed. Sven took a packet out of his pocket and held it out to Train, who gave him a confused look.

"You really deserve this," Sven said.

"But you defeated Parodem," Train pointed out.

Sven shook his head. "I was foolish, and you were right, Train. I should have gone in with some extra help. One man against many isn't brave; it's foolhardy. Besides, if you hadn't taken care of those men, I might not have been able to kill Parodem… For certain, I wouldn't have been able to get out of that factory alive."

Train shrugged. "I don't really want it. You can keep it. I didn't become a sweeper for the money; I just want a way of life that's free so I can enjoy it as much as I can."

Sven's head shot up. "You're a sweeper?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yep." Train placed the last suitcase in the trunk of the car and shut it. "Is that really a surprise?"

"Well… sort of," Sven admitted. "I thought you were some happy-go-lucky kid at first…"

"Kid?" Train asked indignantly, his attitude immediately changing.

"Well – "

"Then you're an old man!"

"What? I'm not an old man! I'm only a couple of years old than you!"

"A few years can mean anything!"

"But – "

"Hey, hey. Can I join you as you do your sweeper things? Another Parodem situation might happen…"

"No, Train. I work alone."

"Come on! If not for repaying me for saving your life!"

"You didn't save my life! I could've done it on my own!"

"Yeah right, Mister I-want-to-thank-you-for-coming-in-when-you-did!"

"… Fine, but you'd better not get in the way."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, old man."

-

"What do we do now?" Train asked his new partner as they loaded up Sven's small car with their suitcases and packages. The townspeople of Goat Town had been immensely grateful to them for taking out Parodem, and in the end both of them had ended up getting more 'thank-you' presents than they'd imagined. All of the people were practically singing their praises in the streets.

"I have a couple of 'wanted' posters," Sven replied as he hefted his bag into the trunk and shut it with a click, "but the criminals have most likely already been picked up by other sweepers. The café I got these from was one of the more central cafés in the sweeper net, so it's probable that other sweepers picked these same guys up and brought them in already."

Train nodded as he leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Should we go to another café, then?" he asked.

"Probably," Sven said, but then he grinned. "But we don't have to. I know a café that we can just call in for information."

"Huh? What café?" Train asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

Sven shook his head. "It's a surprise." Then, he walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat.

"C'mon! You can't just say that and expect me to just let it go!" Train exclaimed as he, too, climbed into the car.

"Nuh-uh. I'm not telling."

"Aww! Sven-chan's such a meanie!"

"Urk! Don't call me that!"

"What, 'Sven-chan' or 'meanie'?"

"Both!"

Their voices faded as they drove off, and the people of Goat Town waved goodbye to them from the edge of the town.

It was the end of a new beginning.

After browsing the Black Cat fanfiction, I found, much to my dismay, that I could not find any really good general fics out there. So I decided to write my own. Put in a little time traveling, an alternate universe, and there's a totally original story!

I'm not sure about the beginning part, on top of Creed's roof. Is making the roof's resistance falter a good reason for the shaking? I wasn't quite sure of what to put.

Is Train's acceptance of the fact that he'd gone back in time plausible? I was a bit uneasy about the part where he did. I'm not sure if Train's the type of person to just believe something as crazy as that, but any other way would have messed up the plot a bit.

Also, is Sven's acceptance of Train plausible? I don't know if he would be the type of person to just accept someone he barely knows to join him as a sweeper. But I had to make them join up in order for this story to go.

Stephen Marconi. Made a random Italian name up - this is totally random, so just as a disclaimer, this person and any real person who relate to each other... well, it's of coincidence only. (Doesn't sound half-bad to me, actually, for a name I made up. I'm usually very bad at naming things. XD)

The part in the manga where Sven meets Train is at the end of Chapter 175, in a special. Most of the part what I wrote above is canon, but some is original.

Let me know what you think! (I may or may not keep this story on FF.N depending on if people like this or not.) I also may need a beta for this story. If you're interested, PM me, and I'll check your betaing profile.

I have about a quarter of the next chapter written out already. Things will start to become very interesting...