Play of Shadows

3.14: Here Comes Trouble

[Do ǫ̶̞̯̹͍̖͈̱͈̞̉͌͋̈́͗̈́̐̄̚̕͘rs c̵̨̧̜̖̟̺̥̗̝͎͋̃͒͜l̴̡̡͕̭̙͉̫̹̖̳͇̀̎͐̽̇͜ờ̶̡͓͚̗̱̫̳̼̖͎̘̍͋̏͐̓̚sing]

The broken voice spilled from the speakers like shattered teeth. It made the players wince, caught in the mouth of a swaying train car. The gap between the train and the platform was easily the width of a man. Below their feet gaped a black abyss.

The train doors stuttered inward, startling the group. They slid open again as the mechanism detected the bodies crammed in the doorway, but slowly, like a beast reluctantly parting its maw.

"We sure this is the right place?" Vernon asked.

"Looks creepy enough," Sasha muttered. She was the only player still sitting down, her swollen ankle propped on a bright plastic seat. Her temper had turned sullen since her injury, and her tongue sharper.

"It could be a trap," Michael said. He wasn't looking at the dilapidated station, but at the back of the car, where the NPC in red was chatting with a colleague in a sharp conductor uniform. They buzzed at each other like broken television sets.

"Where did her mask go?" the man wondered.

"Is that important?" Lieutenant Arendse asked.

The question was in earnest. The NPC in red was an anomaly among its kind – disconcertingly human, wrapped in a decidedly inhuman package. The exact inverse of a creation in a digital world that strove, above all, to present fiction as reality. The woman in red had proven herself useful and so the players accepted her presence. Still, none of them were foolish enough to trust the NPC with their backs.

They were all wary. Michael, however, focused on their faceless guide to the point of distraction. He shook his head in response to Lieutenant Arendse's question and turned to look at the platform. His eyes still darted to the windows on either side of the door, and the NPC's reflection in the glass.

The woman in red rose, as if on cue. The conductor rose with her and smiled at the players with thin red lips.

"The train will depart momentarily," she reminded, then set down the length of the car, pulled back into her duties as a conductor. There was another face on the back of her head. It had its eyes closed. Its fearsome mouth was pinched in a frown even in rest.

Vernon rubbed his forearm, which bore a deep wound in the shape of two half-crescents. "That damned witch's got sharp teeth," he grumbled.

The woman in red raised a gloved hand to her face, gesturing for quiet. Vernon immediately closed his mouth. The memory of the NPC's twisted body launching itself at the group fangs bared was only too fresh in his mind. She would have likely shredded them to pieces, had the faceless NPC not stepped between them.

"We're lucky we had sister Red with us," Sasha hummed.

Vernon snorted in disgust, but otherwise kept his peace. Whether out of tacit agreement or fear of attracting the conductor's attention, only he knew.

The train doors creaked inward again. The faceless NPC took the lead in leaping out of the car. The platform shook when she landed, inspiring little confidence. Still, the way forward was set and the players followed one by one. Vernon tossed a startled Sasha out before clearing the gap himself. Michael and Arendse made sure the woman made it over safely, their easy cooperation betraying a coordinated effort.

"You'd have broken your neck, trying that jump," Vernon said.

Sasha was still too winded to speak, so she flipped the man off instead.

The faceless NPC circled the platform while the players gathered. A shabby security booth sat crookedly at the far end of the station. The woman in red peered inside but did not linger long. The players had barely sorted themselves out by the time she returned to herd the group toward the exit.