•MPHFPC ONE SHOTS•

<=GHOST TRAIN=>

[SPOILERS FOR THE DESOLATIONS OF DEVIL'S ACRE and trigger warning: extreme gore?]

People with tired faces were sitting on both sides in a row. Some were reading newspaper, books, some were staring at the screens of their phones, almost unblinking. The movements of the train were cradling them, like ocean waves, lulling them to sleep.

Then the train stopped and people stretched their legs a little or rubbed their eyes. Leicester Square—that was the current station. Some more people entered, not knowing that soon they would regret taking the tube that day. And then a man came in right before the doors closed. As soon as he met eyes with a few people, they already gave him weird looks.

"Mummy, what's with the man's eyes?" a little girl asked her mother.
"They're fake, sweetie. He's in costume." the mother whispered back, but she decided that something was off, because she pulled her daughter closer to her. The little man seemed to be causing uneasiness among everyone around him, because even someone who was watching a video, listening to it over a pair of headphones, noticed the man and raised their head.

The train started to leave the station, moving toward the next one. Little did they know that the next four stations were going to be a trip to hell—or to Abaton. To him. The man calmly strode over to a free seat between two people and settled down, grinning from ear to ear and his white eyes full of joy, while also being absolutely unreadable.

The two next to him slid a little away from the man, one clearing their throat awkwardly. Somewhere a baby started crying. Lights flickered, but that didn't surprise a lot of people, since that happened sometimes. The discomfort that hung in the air grew and a few passengers stood up to get off at the next station.
"The next station is Covent Garden." the voice of a woman announced everywhere on the train. The strange man giggled. He was still smiling, looking up at a map of the Piccadilly line above a window.

Another stop and the voice of the woman sounded again. "This is—" but then she was cut off and the lights turned off, plunging the whole train into darkness. After everyone realised the lights weren't going to turn back on again, anxious murmur broke out amongst them. The woman's voice was replaced by one of a man, smooth, but evil and taunting. "This is...your end." the voice said. It was still dark and the doors wouldn't slide open. Someone shouted, "This isn't funny! I need to get to work!" and slapped the wall. More people joined in and complained about similar things.

"Your kind is hard to faze, isn't it?" now the man's voice was coming from somewhere next to them. "Then it's a good thing that I still have so many surprises left."
And with that, the light turned back on and everyone blinked, getting adjusted to the bright surroundings. Then their eyes wandered over to the man. He had stood up from his seat and was now standing there, his arms loosely hanging by his side. There was something wrong with his hands, though—they seemed to never end. His fingers had darkened to a greyish dark-blue and were twisted like old tree roots, scattered all across the floor, entangling people's legs, like some sea monster's tentacles. By then, the train started to leave the station again.

There were screams. Some tried to shake off the man's fingers, some sat frozen in fear. "Before I take all your lives, I'd like to introduce myself first." the man said, his voice rising. "I am Caul, your king, your god, your executioner."
And then a man, hiding behind a newspaper, screamed in agony and he turned rotten in just seconds, melting to the floor, pouring over his newspaper and another person's lap. Shrieking, they tried to get up, but one of Caul's fingers had them pinned. "And off you go, too." Caul said, smiling at them and that person, too, melted like a snowman being destroyed by a flamethrower.
Now that whole car of the train was screaming, struggling, wanting to run very bad—they didn't know what else to do, didn't even think of anything else. That they were going to die was all that crossed their minds, not why does this man have such long and so many fingers? What even is he? Their minds weren't made for this.