Chapter Eight

𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯, 𝘐𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘺

Snow. December in Milan always meant snow was in store. Hugo sat contentedly in his basil-green seat, watching as snowflakes fluttered past the window. The train sped like a bullet past rows of snow-capped mountains, spanning tracks built on heightened platforms, all layered in snow. The journey from Milan to Rome lasted nearly three monotonous hours at its fastest, and Adrianus had rushed him to leave at sunrise. On a regular day, Hugo would have given Adrianus a fit of cantankerous, relentless complaining, but he did not do much complaining on that particular morning, simply because a few more hours of sleep would not make the slightest bit of difference. Hugo already had trouble sleeping, unable to stomach the thought of being on the lam, constantly migrating from one place to another in a hurry to avoid the overwhelming might of their hunters. Something about it did not sit particularly well with him, and it was not in any way shocking.

"Hey!" Adrianus called. "Chin up, my boy. What's the matter, you feeling sleepy?"

Hugo almost instinctively shook his head, but at that moment he remembered what Adrianus had said. He had been warned not to concern himself with guilt or sorrow, even fear. To admit that he had had an uneasy feeling was to admit that he had not taken Adrianus' lessons to heart. Hesitantly, Hugo straightened and nodded drowsily.

"Oh. I know exactly what'll kick the lethargy out of you. A grandiose, robust pick-me-up. I did some scouring, and it just so happens that this train is in possession of Pellini Top. I brought suitcases full of these whenever I visited home. Oh, how I used to love them. You will, too. Trust me."

Adrianus delicately set two coffee cups on the table, neatly laying out tissues and utensils as well. Hugo could tell that this was something Adrianus did frequently, judging by the swift motion of his fingers and the focus in his darting eyes. Hugo gingerly reached for his cup and held it to his lips, pausing.

"By all means, try it. It's a hundred percent Arabica. Only the best coffee beans from Central and South America. It's an authentic Italian espresso, and it's got crema, too."

Hugo took a small sip of the coffee before he was halted by Adrianus.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait! Say, you're twenty eight, right?"

"Yeah?"

Adrianus grinned, reaching under the table and brandishing a bottle of Amaretto.

"You ever tried it?"

"No," Hugo replied.

"Well, it's my favorite Italian liquor by far. I love the almond ones. What's more, it goes great with coffee. Here, give me your cup."

Adrianus stirred a light tablespoon of the liquor into Hugo's coffee before mixing two modest spoonfuls of it into his own. He raised his cup, prompting Hugo to do the same, and took a sizeable sip from it. Hugo set his cup down and leaned back in his seat, staring out at the window. For all he knew, the Armament Society could be watching him that very second. It was very likely that they were, in fact, keeping tabs on him. Who knew, maybe the people on the train were agents in disguise. It was this neglected paranoia that gave the fearsome duo of Adrianus and Hugo a noticeable weak link.

❖❖❖

Chamberlain lifted his mask slightly, inhaling the crisp winter air. His suction boots, courtesy of the Armorers, were glued unmoving to the speeding train below him, his body swaying lightly in the rushing wind. Three more agents stood around him, their boots also affixed to the train's roof.

"All right, listen up. You have one job. Just the one. Those two people you're assigned to extract, Adrianus Adelram and Hugo Alden, they're fugitives. Cowards who passed up an opportunity to save the darn world just to save their own skin. But fear doesn't mean they're not dangerous. They're both still criminals. Terrorists. Heck, Adelram's the darn Eidolon! You've read the case files. You know what he did back in Tokyo. They feared him. But to us, he was nothing but a sook behind a mask. And the kid, I trust you can handle him. Work in the shadows, extract them quick. We don't want a riot with the other passengers. That's what we're trying to avoid. I'll work to stop the train for two minutes. That's your window. Go get 'em, boys."

Chamberlain lowered his mask once more and lowered the force of his suction boots, sprinting cautiously along the train towards its leading car. He brandished a contraption from his belt and steadily attached it to the train's roof, watching as it whirred slightly, drilling a crevice into the aluminum. He subsequently brandished something else from his belt, a microscopic ball of stainless steel. Deftly, he opened his fist and dropped it ever so carefully above the driver's control panel, zooming in with his goggles. The ball somewhat cracked open to release six lanky steel arms, attaching itself to the automatic train control system. Chamberlain stepped back and affixed his boots firmly to the train as it screeched to a halt, skidding to a stop right there on the tracks.

"What the heck?" the driver exclaimed in the distance, checking the panel's controls. His job was complete. It was now up to the agents to complete the rest.

❖❖❖

The slim wall at the rear end of the train burst open, sent tumbling off of its hinges and down into the dismal abyss below the tracks. The agents filed in stealthily, their boots designed to cancel out noise. Like a panther, the first agent grabbed hold of a trainman, holding him in a blood choke around his mouth, so as to keep him quiet.

"Go. Go! I've got this one."

The other two proceeded down the corridor while the first agent stuffed something into the trainman's mouth. A clear, white powder. A drug. The trainman instantly collapsed out of the agent's hands, hitting the floor with a muffled thud. The agent sighed, landing an unscrupulous kick to the trainman's face, and marched after his fellow agents.

❖❖❖

Hugo closed his eyes, uncomfortably writhing in his seat. He inhaled and exhaled, relaxed breaths of the fresh, crisp air from the open window. He tossed and turned, his head resting uneasily on the headrest. His hands began to shake, his eyes twitching. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured the worst moment of his life. His arrest, the downfall of everything. The day his parents finally gave up on him. That day was the worst in the entirety of his lifespan. He was expelled from college, arrested by a clandestine and rather fearsome government organization. He spent seven tedious years in a prison cell, eating moldy fish and getting brutally beaten by people older than him, day in, day out. And then he flashed to the portal. How the pyromaniac had tossed him in like a rag doll, headfirst into an unbearable, frigid suspense. The moment he entered the portal was the moment he exited as well. He was not dumped into an interdimensional limbo like the others. Once he fell through the portal, he tumbled face-first onto a solid concrete platform. A sidewalk in the city of Milan. For a moment, he felt relief, gratitude that the universe had spared him. And then Adrianus landed on top of him. Broke every bone in his body. Did he make the right choice to trust a terrorist? Adrianus had somewhat taken Hugo under his wing, but maybe the violent Eidolon didn't deserve his trust. His next dream was the one that woke him. In his head, his mind began to picture the Armament Society agents once more, the Sandmen, dragging him ranting and raving back into his prison cell. His face streaming with tears, sweat and blood, his hands shackled behind his back. As he was tossed into his cell, a swarm of other inmates circled around him, sending their fists slamming into his feeble body. A nightmare.

Hugo sat bolt upright, panting and drenched in cold sweat. It was a dream. A vivid, nightmarish dream. Calming himself, he relaxed his posture and took a sip of his coffee. Adrianus sat across from him, one leg on top of the other, scanning him observantly.

"Bad dreams?" he asked. Hugo nodded, leaning back.

"What did you see?"

Hugo opened his mouth hesitantly to explain, almost squeaking out an answer before Adrianus stopped him.

"What in the..."

Adrianus trailed off as he spotted smoke filling the corridor, past their private cabins.

"Stay here. I'll check it out."

Hugo nodded obediently. Adrianus pushed the door open and walked cautiously down the corridor, squinting to see through the thick, blinding mist. His hand seeped into his pocket, brandishing only the handle of a Busse knife. Instantaneously, he whirled around anticipatorily and drove the blade of the knife right into the stomach of a trainman. He stepped back, horrified, gasping in regret. A reflex. Old habits die hard. He stepped ignorantly backwards until he hit something. Not a wall. A person. An agent grabbed him into a blood choke, a second aiming a rifle at his head.

"I see you found the decoy we set up," the first agent said through his voice filter.

"Who sent you? The Suit?"

"Someone else."

The agent let go of Adrianus, pushing him to the ground. Viciously, he slammed his boot onto Adrianus' chest, a strike that caused him to cough blood from his mouth. Tentatively, Hugo peeked out of a crevice in the door and instantly recoiled at the sight of the agents. He was trapped, and they'd already taken out Adrianus. He began to shiver in the corner, petrified. He wouldn't survive a second. A scrawny, powerless person like him.

"You can't escape, Adelram! You're dead!" the agent taunted, mercilessly kicking his ribs.

Adrianus wheezed, coughing out more blood.

"I don't think so."

In a flash, he brandished an Armament Society-issued pistol from underneath him, giving the agent a second to take it in. While he had him in a choke, Adrianus picked his pocket. His fingers were as fast as lightning. When that second had passed, he pulled the trigger without any hesitation whatsoever, watching as the bullet blossomed into a patch of red on the agent's Kevlar vest, a blemish on his left pectoral. Adrianus got up onto his feet slowly, straightening confidently.

"You know what they say. Only the sword from the blacksmith himself can pierce his armor."

The armed agent began to fire unhesitatingly, to no avail. The string of bullets shattered panes of glass, causing passengers to scream in terror. Adrianus landed a flying kick to the agent's rifle, knocking it right out of his hand and blocking a strike with a perfectly timed age uke. The agent cowered as Adrianus slammed his shoe into the agent's groin, knocking him to the ground with a roundhouse kick. Adrianus straightened the creases on his suit, scoffing at the unconscious agents lying at his feet. For a split second, he felt satisfied with himself, before the third agent landed on his back, performing a multitude of overhand punches to the back of Adrianus' head.

❖❖❖

Hugo perked up. At first he thought his ears were deceiving him, but it had to be. A gunshot echoed in the distance, ringing in Hugo's ears. Could it be? Was Adrianus down? Hugo trembled as he rose to his feet and peeked once more through the door. He stepped back, shocked to see that it was, in fact, the opposite. At Adrianus' feet was a smoking gun, presumably what he used to shoot the agent that confronted him. Hugo watched as Adrianus mercilessly fought another, knocking him to the floor with a powerful kick. Hugo grinned in awe, but his amazement dissolved when something pinned Adrianus to the ground. A third agent, who had somewhat fallen from the ceiling. Hugo panted, knowing he was the only one to save Adrianus now. But what if he were to get caught? Would he be arrested, sent back to his cell? Or worse, executed? It wasn't the time to think about that now. What he had to do was damn the consequences and power forward. Instinctively, Hugo lifted Adrianus' empty Amaretto bottle and burst through the door, shattering the glass on the agent's head. Unfazed, the agent turned and lifted his fallen comrade's rifle, unhesitatingly shooting a bullet at Hugo's head, which he swiftly dodged.

"Oi," Adrianus said, wiping blood off of his jaw. He brandished his pistol once more and fired a bullet directly into the agent's head, watching as it exploded into a mess of blood and decimated organs. Hugo stood, spitting out droplets of the agent's blood and even shards of his crumbled skull. Adrianus began to laugh hysterically, landing ruthless kicks to the decapitated agent. Hugo retched in disgust, wiping his face with his shirt.

"Oh, what the-,"

Hugo was cut off by uproarious applause in the distance. Down the corridor, another agent strolled leisurely towards them, clapping his hands together. But this wasn't just an agent. The man lifted his helmet and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his horrific facial scars and grizzled beard.

"Chamberlain," Adrianus growled, cocking the pistol again. Chamberlain lifted his hands in surrender, halting in front of them.

"You look well, Adrianus. And Hugo, I trust that's not your blood?"

Hugo stood behind Adrianus, trying his best to put on a tough facade to masquerade the fear he felt.

"Darn it, Reynolds," Chamberlain muttered under his breath, looking in dismay at the decapitated agent's corpse. He took another step forwards, and Adrianus lifted the pistol's nozzle.

"Hey, hey. I'm not here to fight. I just wanted to say, the Armament Society has no need to kill you. It doesn't benefit us in any way, whatsoever. We just wanted to negotiate your peaceful surrender."

"That's highly unlikely," Adrianus replied, aiming the pistol steady.

"Okay. Okay, I tried," Chamberlain said with a light chuckle. "Now all these people will die because of you two."

Hugo paused. How were they to die? Until he realized it. Just a second too late.

"It's a trap!" he exclaimed, as a string of explosives burst into whirlwinds of white-hot flame. Chamberlain leapt through an open door, vanishing into the distant abyss. Adrianus wrapped his arms around Hugo and pressed a button on his own belt, watching as the columns of flame brushed right past them, leaving them unscathed when the fire had died out and they had re-materialized. Hugo gasped.

"What... What was that?"

"A little Eidolon intangibility magic. Never you bother."

Adrianus grabbed a sizzling transceiver from a fallen agent's belt, holding it to his mouth.

"This isn't over. You hear me, Suit? To us, now you're priority numero uno."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘙𝘰𝘰𝘮

"You hear me, Suit? To us, now you're priority numero uno."

The Suit stood by the panel of the computer screen, watching the camera on the agent's helmet depict Adrianus and Hugo. A failed mission. A disaster. The Suit clicked a button on the right hand side of the panel, connecting a direct line to Chamberlain.

❖❖❖

Chamberlain leaned back in a cozy linen seat, seated by the window of a speeding jet. On the table in front of him was a pot of steaming oolong tea, an ornate china cup laid out on a saucer beside a napkin and teaspoon. A man dressed in a velvet suit stood by the table, pouring a modest quantity of the tea into the teacup.

"Oh, thank you," Chamberlain said, taking a light sip. The toasty liquid stung as it was washed down his throat, causing him to bend over and cough.

"Mr. Chamberlain? Are you all right?" the man asked, concerned.

Chamberlain straightened, putting up a thumb. Simultaneously, Chamberlain's phone began to vibrate in his pocket, sending a jolt through his body. He fished it out of his pocket and held it to his ear. He'd checked who was calling him. An old contact on speed dial, labeled "Jonathan Doman."

"Suit. What's up?"

"I saw what happened, Sergeant Chamberlain," the Suit said firmly. "You endangered, no, killed a train full of civilians just to acquire the targets and they still got away. Do you have any idea how this puts us under scrutiny? We're supposed to work in the shadows. Now when they investigate the explosion, they'll find the dead agents. Pointing directly to us. What the heck were you thinking, Russell?"

Chamberlain sighed.

"I destroyed the evidence. Blew up the train. The bodies are gone."

"Those corpses are wearing fireproof gear, you idiot!" the Suit chided.

"We can still track Adelram and Alden. The trackers are still there, right?"

"No. After we found them, they got suspicious. Eventually, they found the trackers. Ditched them. This was our one shot, and you and your team blew it! Not only did a train full of people and three of our own die, but you let two dangerous criminals who are also witnesses disappear under your watch, and you left blatant evidence of our involvement as well. Darn it, Chamberlain!"

"So, what do we do now?"

"The world is going to end. We have to focus on stopping that. I'm assigning you another mission. The Oruzhiye have a deposit of the dark matter collected from the black hole by cosmonauts. I want you and your team to successfully retrieve a portion of it and bring it back. A sample that we can reverse engineer, thus repairing Project: Vortex."

"Yes, sir."

"I gave your pilot direct orders to take you to the Warren's hangar. From there, go to the briefing room and wait for the new candidates to arrive. I trust you not to fail this time, Sergeant Chamberlain."

"I promise you, Mr. Suit."

Chamberlain hung up, placing the phone back into his pocket. How was he going to ensure success this time? The world was ending, and the fate of it rested on his shoulders. The burden was a lot to carry, but he had to. He knew what the Suit did to disobedient soldiers. His history of brutality. The last thing he wanted was to be on the receiving end of that.

❖❖❖

The Suit abandoned the panel, heading towards the doorway.

"Mr. Suit?"

The Suit turned.

"What is it, Anthony?"

"There's something you have to see. Well, someone."