Dockingboys

Chapter Ten

Three days prior

Mack stared at his watch. The train was getting late. He hated late trains.

The reason he was wasting almost half his day, waiting for some stupid train, was that after this, he'd be able to retire with half a million bucks worth of gold and silver and go home to his new wife and dockingboy son and try to make his son happier with the money, as the boy and his new mother didn't get along much. So Mack had volunteered for this job, and if everything went ok, he'll go home and retire. But first he had to do this.

After what seemed like an hour, the train finally arrived. "Took you long enough," Mack muttered under his breath as he walked down the platform.

Only he didn't walk into the train. He kept on walking, all the way down to the cargo compartment. A few other passengers looked his way and gave him questioning looks, but Mack knew that this wasn't a problem. He was wearing the designated uniform for train maintenance, so no one would even begin to question what he was doing this far from the passenger cabins. But as far as everyone knows, his name was Perry Stalwart, a maintenance worker that was assigned to monitor the goods on the train.

Mack kept walking until he reached the cargo compartment and looked both ways, making sure no one saw what he was doing, and climbed onto the first car. Each segment of the cargo compartment of a train could hold two Titan containers maximum, but Mack knew exactly what he was looking for.

Up ahead, the steam train blew it's final horn, and the train took off down the tracks, away from the Crisscross and into the city. The night before, Mack had done his research, and he knew this train was headed for the South Docks, and there weren't many urban areas between here and there, mostly just a few clumps of small buildings. Mack continued down the line, looking for the right container. In the sixth segment, he found it.

A black Titan container.

Mack's mouth curled up into a smile. He knelt down to check the serial number of the container etched onto the metal near the bottom. TRV- 486201. Mack laughed. He did it! Now all he had to do was finish the job and he'd be back in his home, retiring from the criminal-for-hire life to his wife and son. Mack stood back up, retreated the way he came, and stopped at the link that connected the two segments together. It was made of solid metal, but Mack was prepared. He took out the small five-shot revolver he'd used half a month of his payments to buy, and emptied the clip at the metal links.

There was a loud snapping sound as the metal gave away, and Mack watched as the train continued on with the other segment. The segment Mack was standing on significantly slowed, and Mack heard the familiar rumble of a truck's engine to his left. He turned just in time to see a masked machine gunner propped at the back of the truck, and ducked down as the bullets fired. The bullets hit everywhere- the container, other containers, the wooden floor, and even Mack's left calf. Mack screamed as he felt what felt like his leg being torn apart by a single bullet. He crawled against the side of the cargo segment, praying to the gods that he wouldn't lose his life right there and then. The bullets continued relentlessly for another few moments, before Mack heard a sizable explosion behind him. Cautiously, Mack raised his head over the side of the train car and saw a much larger truck slamming into the one with the machine gunner. Sitting in the passenger seat was a man dressed in a suit and sunglasses. "Mack, let's get out of here!"

Mack didn't need to be told twice; he immediately stood back up and made a hasty run for it. The only problem was, his ankle had been torn apart by the bullet, and the fastest speed he could go was a steady limp, not to mention the stinging pain that shot up his leg with every step. Luckily, the bigger truck turned around and cut the distance between themselves and Mack. Within a few seconds, he was sitting in the back of the truck, slumped against the side and stemming the blood on the ankle wound. The truck spun around back toward the train's cargo compartment, where the black Titan container was still sitting, it's outer shell covered with bullet holes. The man hopped out, attached a grapple to the container via a winch at the back of the truck, and climbed back into the truck. As they took off, the rope of the grapple strained, and the container was ripped from it's spot on the cargo segment and slammed into the grass, following the truck. The man grinned.