#just gonna inconspicuously post this as if its not my first post in almost 3 months 🫃🏻🫃🏻

[gremlin-elrics]

hi 🏋🏽‍♂️🏋🏽‍♂️ i have not said a gotdamn bloody word on tumblr since april but @ anon in my inbox? youre so valid and good and i will post ur asks soon. also hi guys um…. wass good ??? 😗😗

[echoalyssa]

Hi! I wanted to ask you if you could rewrite the Cheating Chase request a made a little time ago but with Jaden with the reader being famous just like him and the whole situation havin' an impact on internet and with their (shared) friends or you could write a part 2 for Cheating Chase request but only if it's not gonna bother you in any way...

❤Thank you!❤I LOVE YOUR WRINTTING❤

Warnings: Some naughty time is inferred in this!

Jaden’s music is pounding through his surround sound speaker system. He’s throwing another party. One of his signatures. Bryce is chanting “Shots shots shots!”

Jaden’s busy making out with his girl. He’s got her pressed against a wall.

“Wanna ditch my own party?” He murmurs into her ear. 

She giggles and begins to lead his girlfriend to his bedroom. A girl bumps into his shoulder hard but he barely notices, just continues steering his girlfriend to his room.

When they’re done and getting dressed he wonders where his phone has gone. It had been in his back pocket before...

A knock on the door startles him. It’s the girl who had bumped into him earlier. At least he thinks it was. He’s really not sure. He doesn't look at anyone who isn't his girl.

“You dropped this. Bryce said you were up here.”

Jaden vaguely notes her creepy smile but quickly forgets once his phone is back and his girl calls for him.

~~~ You’re barely home from Jaden’s party when your phone begins to blow up. IT vibrates almost continually, calls and texts filling up the screen. All want you to check Jaden’s instagram.

You plop down on the couch and answer the call from Mads, your best friend.

“Have you checked!?” She shrieks, loud enough that you have to take the phone off of speaker-phone for a second.

“I’m checking now! But what can possibly be so urg-”

No. This can’t be right... it can’t... there, one of his most recent posts, theres no way.

It’s a set of nudes, captioned ‘my beautiful baby girl’ with a kissy face emoji. Except.. those aren't your nudes which means... not that you'd want your nudes posted but...

Mads, taking your silence as an answer whispers, “Y/N I am so sorry.”

You can't speak, your fingers go numb. Your phone falls from your grip and clatters as it hits the floor and bounces.

Mads is speaking but you can't hear her. Your heart feels like its beating a mile a minute.

There had to be some sort of explanation, if you just called him he would be able to clear this up. Right? Right!?

So you pick up your phone, Mads is saying that she’ll make the friend group unfollow him. You excuse yourself, hang up, and dial Jaden. It rings, and rings, and rings, Then, “Hey it’s Jaden. Hit me up later!”

You try again. And again. And again. You get his voicemail every time.

Somehow you’re all the emotions at once. You pull up his instagram, and this time your notice your name is no longer in his bio the way it had been for so long.

‘That’s it.’ You think. 

You unfollow him on instagram, remove his name from your own bio, and delete all the pictures of the two of you together. 

Then you go to Snapchat and un-add him. His contact gets deleted, you unfollow him on twitter and delete his face from your camera roll. 

Satisfied as you can be, you fall into bed and let the tears come.

~~~

By the early afternoon of the next day the gossip is at full roar. You venture on to youtube, and right there, the first video you see is by ‘annaoop’ who is almost the most well known gossip youtube channel focusing on tiktokers.

‘Jaden Hossler cheats on Y/N L/N’ the title reads. Something within you compels you to click on it. 

Her voice rings, talking about ‘tea’. She shows the censored versions of the pictures from his instagram. They’re basically just one blurred skin colored square. 

“How dare he? He hasn’t commented on it at all... Y/N deleted photos of the two of them such as this one from their trip to Bondi Beach.”

The series of photos she displays make your heart clench. ‘Annaoop’ then begins to pull up the followers page on Jaden’s instagram. 

She informs you and the rest of her viewers that Mads, Nessa, Thomas, Petrou, Chase Hudson, Charli, Mia, and others have unfollowed Jaden’s instagram, and sided with you.

From the way she narrates you can tell she’s on your ‘side’. Apparently, Bryce has unfollowed you and written on his Twitter that Jaden would not be making a statement until he talked to you. Except he wasn't even trying to talk to you.

Your fans are going after Jaden, and from the screenshots some are getting ruthless. Some fans have even jumped ship from Jaden to you.

And then theres the die hard Jaden fans of his that are trashing you for not being good enough to him. It had already been established that it wasn't your body because it had a tattoo that you didn't.

Your phone is still blowing up but you don't truly want to talk about it. So instead you post a statement to your instagram and twitter. 

‘I haven’t been able to reach Jaden. We are no longer together because of the incident. Just because this happened does not mean I want or condone you attacking him or any of his friends and family. I love y'all and I will be okay <3 Y/N.’

No sooner than you had posted the statements, theres a loud pounding at your door. Very reluctantly, you open it.

It’s Nessa, she rushes in gushing. “Jaden’s coming here. I heard from Josh who heard from Blake, who heard from-”

“Nessa!” You interrupt, “When?”

“Well you know how bad at math I am but hypothetically, I mean technically he should be here soon!���

And as if right on cue, there’s the sound of your doorbell followed by rapid knocking by a heavier hand.

“I’ll go out the back door so he doesn't see me. Good luck, I love you! Call me if you need anything!” She gives you a quick and fleeting hug and then darts off.

He’s still pounding at your door. And having no other choice, you let him in. As soon as you do he's speaking so quickly that you can barely understand him. 

“Y/Nwhyhaventyoubeenansweringmeivebeencallingandcallingandcallingyouandyouhaventansweredandisawyourannouncementthatwerebrokenup-”

“Did you also happen to see the pictures you posted on your instagram?” You cross your arms.

“Ofcoursebutisweartoyouandeverythingreally-”

“Slow down or we can’t have a conversation Jaden.”

He gives you one sharp nod and takes a few big breaths. “Do you remember at my party when I got knocked by some girl?”

You frown, “No, and I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Well, thats the thing. It was orchestrated to look inconspicuous. She must have taken my phone then because after we were alone... y’know... well she showed up. Gave me my phone claiming I dropped it and Bryce told her where to find me except he didn't. She’s been stalking me Y/N. That’s how she found my room, knew my password. You know I have more respect for women than to post their nudes. You have to believe me! She blocked you from my phone, thats why nothing went through!”

It made sense... and you should believe him but what if he was just a really good liar? So many people were involved in your relationship and now this drama. You’d always tried to keep the private details of your life well... private. But life in the spotlight often prevented that. Maybe the damage had been done. Maybe it was too late. You just didn't know.

“I need to think about it Jaden.”

[me-gongoga]

Alliance, Ch. 6 - Cassian Andor x Reader

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Reader/OC, hints of Poe Dameron x Reader/OC, Slowburn

Summary: At the General’s will, a begrudging intelligence officer is paired off with a seemingly inexperienced Resistance pilot on a reconnaissance mission.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Ao3 - Fanfiction.Net

[Reader Replacement Key: “Moira” - Your first name]

Cassian and Moira sat hunkered down behind a small covering of undergrowth just outside of the Great Temple. Night had fallen on Yavin-4 and their intention was to use that to their advantage. As Cassian had predicted earlier, the outside of the temple was anything but well lit, which he attributed to the Order’s subdued numbers.

Beside him, Moira was stretching her fingers into a pair of black gloves, her night goggles resting around her neck. They had both changed into black guises, though it seemed less than necessary once he saw that Moira was not exaggerating about how dark it got after sundown. Cassian could barely see her beside him, despite the fact that she was less than a meter away. And though he had expected a defiant ‘I told you so’ from her, Moira had been nothing but courteous despite his misgivings. In any case, Cassian was at ease knowing that they would have the darkness as their ally tonight.

“Kay,” Cassian whispered into his comlink, Moira crawling closer to him to hear. “What have you got for us?”

“Well, let me tell you,” came the droid’s electronic timbre from the device. “They certainly don’t make it easy to hack into their communications.”

Moira gave a slight chuckle. “And that’s just one reason they’re no fun.”

Kaytoo continued. “I have surmised that this operation is indeed, not officially sanctioned by the First Order. It is being led by one of their higher ranking members as a personal excursion. They are looking for something, an artifact of some kind, that they believe is here.”

Cassian nodded to himself. “Any clue as to the debris we ran into earlier?”

“It would seem they have been instructed to use the outer atmosphere as a landfill.” Kaytoo said, almost as if he was humored by it. “Once thorough examination and dismantling of rebel ephemerae is complete, it is hauled out there and left to rot.”

Moira and Cassian exchanged perplexed looks through the darkness.

“What else?”                                        

“That is all.” Kaytoo replied.

Cassian furrowed his brow. “That’s all you have?”

“I told you their encryptions were good. If I had their frequency master-key I could provide you with a more thorough report on their communications, of course.”

“How thorough?” Cassian whispered back to his droid.

“A comprehensive read-out of all saved and outgoing communications accessible before mandatory code changes at 06:00 hours.”

“Sounds like a pretty good deal,” Moira murmured, brilliant eyes blinking at him in the darkness.

“I have to agree,” Cassian muttered. He tapped the miniscule datapad attached to his wrist. 22:53. They had a good window. “Where would we find that key?”

“Their communications post,” replied Kaytoo’s nimble voice. “But I have not identified its location within the temple.”

Cassian bowed his head and stared down at his watch, running scenarios through his mind. “Base One…” he began. “It obviously had a communications center of its own, correct?”

Moira nodded.

“You remember where it is in there?”

Her lips tempered, as she searched the recesses of her mind before eagerly nodding once again. “Yeah… Yeah, I remember. Why?”

“Well,” he began, the gruff in his voice surfacing. “Low on resources as they are, I’m willing to bet they’ve rigged their own comms on top of whatever was left by the Alliance.”

She smiled wickedly at him. “I bet you’re right.”

“Alright, Kay,” Cassian huffed to the droid. “Stand by. We’re gonna get you that key.” He shoved the comm back into his pocket, and began searching through the bag at his side. After a moment of rifling through the pack, Cassian felt the small rounded container graze past his finger tips. Inside was a small earpiece and a matching communication link, much smaller than their standard issue models. Cassian dug the piece into his ear and handed the comlink to Moira.

“Another comm?” She asked, rolling the device around in her palm.

“It’s a hard-wired, single-feed connection,” Cassian muttered. “Only full-proof way we have of maintaining an open channel while I’m in there.”

“What? You’re going in alone? But you don’t even know the internal layout.” The goggles around her neck flippantly slid about with her every expressive movement.

Cassian simply shook his head as he double-checked the energy charge of his blaster. “That’s why you’ll be guiding me over the comm.”

“Why not just take me in with you as an actual guide?” She questioned.

“Because this requires stealth. I know well enough how to be inconspicuous on my own but I can’t do that if I have to watch you too.” Cassian’s voice was imposing but cooperative – his words meant to be more commanding than assailing. “Besides, I need you to keep an eye on things out here and cover my back.”

Moira’s lips parted for just a moment before she retracted whatever sentiment she had been about to speak. She instead settled for a nod.

“Alright,” Cassian pulled a datapad from the bag, making a few keystrokes before bringing up a render of the Great Temple. Though dull in any average amount of light, the sudden brightness strained Moira’s eyes.

“Where am I going?”

She frowned as he held it out to her, eyes darting back to him. “You’re not going to like this.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

Moira pursed her lips and pointed to the diagram.

“Oh,” Cassian muttered, already feeling winded. Her finger rested gently against the very top of the temple.

Yavin-4’s Base One was perhaps the most elaborate headquarters ever held by the Rebel Alliance. Boasting not only an extensive hangar bay and a full height of over thirty-six stories, the Great Temple was further inundated with surreptitious passageways and an extensive underground level. Cassian could only begin to imagine the number of historic things that had been put in motion within the magnificent stone walls. And he could see how easily something could have been looked over or forgotten in the enormous structure. Though he could not say what it was, he was sure the First Order would want to manipulate it for something devious. But perhaps with the communications key and Moira’s extensive familiarity with the temple, they could find it first.

Moira had already effortlessly guided him into the upper levels of the base, rerouted him around an outpost of Stormtroopers, and even gotten him to an unused lift shaft that saved him some dangerous climbing. He was making good time, but that was greatly impart to the sad state of the First Order within the temple. The highest number of troops he had encountered was on the hangar level, several battalions being proudly marched about and dispatched to search, or rather re-search, different areas of the massive space and underground level. Cassian had to wonder if being sent here was basically a punishment for them. It was the most unmotivated and sloppy he had ever seen Stormtroopers. And Cassian had seen a lot.

“You should be hitting the gathering hall soon,” Moira’s voice chirped in his ear as he slid down an empty corridor. “After that, it’s a straight shot up to the comm center.”

“Alright,” Cassian muttered back to her. He still held his blaster at ready, even though he hadn’t seen a single Stormtrooper on the past two levels.

“I really hope you were right. Otherwise, you’ll be going up a lot of steps for nothing.”

Cassian shrugged to himself. “I’ve done far more daunting things for much smaller rewards. Heading past the hall entrance and up the staircase.”

“You know that hall you’re going past is where they held the celebration ceremony for Luke Skywalker after he blew up the original Death Star,” Moira recited quite proudly.

“You don’t say?” Cassian teased in an unimpressed whisper as he began his ascent.

“Okay, well I thought it was cool the first time someone told me that,” she replied, sounding only slightly bitter.  

He could not help but smile at the disgruntled nature of her tone. It was almost endearing.

Cassian continued up the stairs, adjusting his night goggles for the renewed darkness. The steps were daunting and the passageway was narrow. It was nothing that Cassian had not encountered before, but he wouldn’t be keen to call it safe either. “I can’t believe you played here as a child,” he murmured to Moira, suddenly wanting of her distracting babble.

“Well, you can see how it made Poe into the adrenaline-junkie-type you hate so much,” she told him. “A swing set doesn’t really cut it after you’ve dropped into cockpits of old y-wings from bannisters a dozen meters off the ground.”

“I’m surprised you turned out okay.”

“I’ve never quite had the death wish that Poe does,” she admitted, lightheartedly. “I copied him in many ways… but somehow missed out on his charisma and borderline suicidal heroism.”

Cassian snickered. “Thank the Force for that. I think you’re all the better for it.”

Moira’s gentle laughter reverberated over the comm. “I think you might be one of the only people who likes me more than they like Poe.”  

Her upbeat voice was not enough to mask the melancholy words underneath. Cassian was sure it had not been easy for to live in the shadow of the ‘best pilot in the Resistance’. But she had put herself there. She had chosen to follow in his footsteps.  Though if Cassian still had anyone like that – anyone like family - he thought he might keep them just as close.

“If it’s any consolation,” he whispered between labored breaths. “I’ve heard plenty of people speak highly of you.”

Another shrill but quiet laugh. “We didn’t even meet till yesterday,” she quipped back at him

“Sure,” he conceded. “But you really think as an intelligence officer, that I wouldn’t know anything about you?”

“I…” her voice trailed off into silence.

He thought he could almost hear her smiling.

Three more flights of stairs and Cassian was outside of the old communications center. He did not even have to pick the lock. The door slid open immediately under his touch, revealing the room to be entirely void of organic life. The only occupant was a silver, First Order protocol droid. Cassian did not even bother to shoot it, rather just switched it off from behind before it could understand what happened.

Thankfully, his prediction was correct; the droid had been overseeing a series of double rigged switches and panels that looked of standard First Order issue. And there, in the middle of all of it, was the key that Kaytoo had described to him.

It was almost too simple, too clean. A feeling of unease settled in his stomach. Had the First Order wanted them to intercept their communications? Did they know they were there? No, Cassian told himself, quickly dismissing the thoughts with his own basic logic. But there was no way to know for sure. All he could do was continue the mission and stay vigilant.

Cassian slipped the datalink into the device, waiting for the indicator light to flash green – indicating a positive connection with Kaytoo’s systems. “It’s in,” he murmured to Moira, surveying the room as the unease in his stomach grew. “I’m getting out now. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Well you’ve got good instincts,” Moira’s voice came, sounding noticeably drearier than usual. “Because there’s an Upsilon-class command shuttle descending on the platform with a TIE-fighter escort as we speak.”

Suddenly Cassian was dashing down the stairs at a less than cautious rate. In his ear, Moira was rattling off everything from possible back up plans to vague snippets of the ensuing chaos outside. Stormtroopers were being called out to ready positions and technicians sprinting about the platform, signaling to one another. It was clear that no one had expected the arrival.

It was the distinct Upsilon nature of the craft that worried Cassian. He knew they were not simply handed out to officers left and right. It was a sign of distinction; a ship that demanded respect.

“Are you safe where you are?” He questioned, interrupting her incessant prattle, barely staying ahead of his own footing.

She didn’t answer him, instead just rambled on.

“There’s a, oh I can’t remember, I think there’s a trash chute that could be wide enough in the adjacent passageway… no. I don’t know there’s a lot of commotion down here, you could sneak out in it, but what if they… fuck, Cassian, I can’t- I don’t-.”

“Moira,” he repeated, his voice more demanding. “Are you safe?”

“I’m, uh,” her feed cut off for a moment, filling his ear with static. “I’m, yeah, just moving.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Trying to get somewhere… safer, yeah… the hall. The hall, Cassian.”

“What?” He breathed, nearly crashing into the wall of a turn.

“The gathering hall, there’s these great big transparisteel windows,” she was nearly tripping over her own words. “Some of them open up to the outside of the temple. You could climb down – get out on the other side – nothings going on over there. I’ll meet you.”

Cassian thought over her words, mentally analyzing the heights of the pyramid-like blocks that encapsulated the sides of the temple. Each was maybe just a bit taller than himself. It would not be an easy climb but it seemed more than attractive compared to his other options. The darkness would provide all the cover they would get.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Just… please be careful.”

“Always,” she promised.

…

Moira was not being careful as she made her way to meet Cassian at the backside of the temple. She had a thriving curiosity to know just exactly who was heading up such an operation on her home planet. She thought maybe it would be helpful - maybe it would do them some good to know. But deep down that was not quite what was driving her. Something else wanted to her to know, some other pulling force. So every step she took, though heading in the proper direction, was just a bit too deliberately placed near the platform, just a bit too close to the fray. But it was worth it.

About halfway to the back she finally had a good vantage point, as the shuttle completed its landing sequence. She pulled her lustful eyes away from the shiny TIEs beside it and focused on the smoke emanating from the landing platform of the command craft. There, a man clad completely in black, descended from the ramp followed by an impressive Stormtrooper escort. He was toward over the troopers and moved with a vicious audacity that sent a chill down her spine. Kylo Ren. Royalty of the Rebellion turned scourge of the Resistance.

An unadulterated rage swelled inside her at the sight of him. He had betrayed the cause, killing dozens, murdered his own father, and even tortured Poe. These were all unforgiveable acts. Though Moira did not see herself as inherently violent, she wanted so desperately to attack him – to meet him with aggression for his wrong doings. But the sight of Cassian descending the stone slabs called her attention elsewhere. He had been quicker than she anticipated, though it was not the first time he had surprised her.

“I see you,” Moira murmured, picking up her pace as she circulated in the rims of the jungle.

“Then that means they can see me too,” he replied back over the comm in her hand, sounding less than agreeable.

“They’re not paying attention,” she reassured him. “Too busy attending to the traitor.”

“Traitor?” He asked, but he processed it quicker than she could tell him. “Ren?

“In the flesh,” Moira seethed back. Though she was focused on Cassian, it was the memories of Poe’s tearful recanting that came to mind.

It was in the wake of the Hosnian atrocity, after the Resistance had destroyed Starkiller base in retaliation, that Poe had so desperately reached out to her. Moira was still stationed with the New Republic on Corellia and one of the lucky few assigned outside of the main fleet. As soon as Poe showed up at her doorstep, they had both burst into tears, just ecstatic to see one another alive. It was there he described to her how horrid his treatment had been at the hands of the First Order, how Ren had toyed with him and bent his mind to his will. And though she would always accept Poe for everything that he was, seeing him like that was borderline shocking. It had killed part of her to see him – the one who had always been so strong for them both – break down before her. It was the very same day that he convinced her to join the Resistance.  

“Moira,” Cassian’s voice cut into her thoughts with his warm resonance. “Where are you?”

“Almost where you are,” she responded, shaking the teary images of Poe from her mind. She quickly turned her casual candor into a sprint. Cassian had nearly descended the entire temple; she could see him climbing down the final rungs of it as she rounded the back. If there was one thing she could say about Cassian Andor, it was that he was committed; she had never seen a Resistance fighter with more tact or allegiance to the cause. And though he had been reluctant to trust her at first, he was embracing her more at every step. She had begun to develop a certain admiration for him because of that.

Moira had been ready to burst out of the jungle towards Cassian when she rather luckily caught the gleam of white in the corner of her eye.

“I see you too,” he said whipping off his own night goggles.

“Hurry,” she implored him, readying herself as he sprinted across the stone platform. It looked like a standard patrol, but they had to be fitted with some kind of night-vision to be wandering about on their own in the darkness. Moira wanted to kick herself for missing them before, for being to distracted by her own thoughts.  

Soon enough, Cassian was closer than close, running towards her in the shallows of the jungle, Moira smiling as he approached, pulling off her goggles to look at him. But it was then that her eyes flickered away, looking past to the blur of white; the blur of white that looked like it was raising its weapon towards them.

“Cass,” she whispered and the sudden flash of light registered in her eyes. Before she knew it, Moira was pulling his body toward her own, alternating their weights and flinging him to the ground.

“FT-2007, why did you fire?”

“I- I, thought I saw movement.”

“Our presence here is to be restrained, if you fire again without order, you will be reported, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

To say it burned would be an understatement. Moira felt as though a red hot blade had been taken to her stomach and twisted in. All she could do was frantically try to breathe as her limbs gave way beneath her, gravity pushing her backwards towards the ground. But Cassian caught her, suddenly on his knees, holding her close enough that she could see the perplexed look in his eyes. She tried to focus on that instead of the smell of her own burning flesh.

“Moira,” Cassian half-whispered, half-cried as he held her. “What did you do?” His voice was anxious and guttural.

“Well,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been shot.”

[bismuthcoin-blog]

Round Trip - Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Hi! Welcome to this blog of stories! I felt pressured to show something off, so here it is. Through this blog I hope to post some of the stories that are being written for this elaborately designed universe, and I hope I draw some interest in the universe while doing so. Posts on this blog will be rare but large, like this one. If you have any questions, I’ll try to answer them in periodic posts.

This is Chapter 1 of what I assume will be an 8-Chapter endeavor. OK, enjoy and all that jazz!

ROUND TRIP

A Doo-Wop Story

by Ian Nelson

CHAPTER 1

RIVER “BISCUIT” ESTESTA, BIG PATROL

MR. MERCER’S EXPRESS, Nexus Station SE

Twertosa, CL, Federated States of Tambia

21:54:12 local time

6 minutes to departure

roughly 4 ½ hours from Archa, Highrock

Wednesday, December 31st, 1997 CE

                 Playing cards are a seriously effective non-verbal communication tool, plus they look inconspicuous as hell no matter what you actually do with them. And as relaxed as the moment must have seemed to anyone passing by the crappy fast-food place, my head was spinning.

              Quirk, my brother, tapped my arm. He must have seen how stressed I was. As I looked up from my Al-Kola, he played a four of hearts in the center of the table. The signal for get ready.

              I looked towards the exit, and Jaun sighed deeply. I could hear his commander, Tippy Top, going off in his communicator. I guess he forgot to read the mission notes and she was reading it back to him. Jaun and Katano had complex expressions of fatigue, worry, and preparedness.

              Through the narrow exit we watched as he passed through the ticket booth into the concourse, bowing to the gatekeeper as a crowd, mostly metahumans, swarmed behind him. Then there he was, rushing through on his way across the station’s sub-zero temperatures: Our target, Destell-Onir Ambassador Wushe Gol’Tern, with his two bodyguards on his flanks.

              He had traveled over 750 kilometers today by metal chariot: a plan B, since his last checkpoint in Dóxa City had taken just a few hours too long on Monday. He had to make up for lost time, since his tour was to end at the New Year’s Summit, early morning tomorrow. Twertosa, the capital of Coolocc, was the Ambassador’s last stop today, before traveling back to Highrock’s capital, Archa, and the Destell-Oniri Embassy, tonight. And here he is, about to board the train home.

               Our mission? Make sure Mr. Gol’Tern’s train isn’t the end of the line.

               Sure, he has those two bodyguards for that. And sure, most of the time they’re effective. You shell out the big bucks, you expect good guards.

               Jaun abruptly threw down a five of hearts next to his drink without looking up. Mission is a go. I eased my breathing. Gotta look natural. Gotta look totally relaxed.

               But Marky, our “word from on-high” as we called him, had a hunch that Gol’Tern’s “guards” were planning something else. Of course, criminal backgrounds working bodyguard jobs usually are a bad sign, and he had some plan for the Ambassador that involved his survival. So our mission, if we chose to accept it (note: we had no choice), meant we get to protect the Ambassador at his most vulnerable position – isolated on a train car.

               Best of all, we work for tips.

               Katano played a card as a second signal, which I quickly glanced at. A six of spades. Keep it quiet. We’re gonna go.

              Quirk, Jaun, and Katano watched the Ambassador closely – he had slowed to give some money to a harpy street musician – till he passed the security check just beyond our door, then they turned back to our table and kept “playing”.

              Katano and I glanced behind us to Foley, who was tapping his foot to the nearly inaudible Parsivalen music in the restaurant, trying to gauge what Muffin Top, his commander, was planning next. He glanced up, and I expected him to say something we didn’t know. He just pointed to the train that just pulled in, a tall gray one, and mouthed the words, there’s our ride.

              Foley was weird. Is it culture shock? Maybe, but you never can describe how different Highrock Classifieds work from Tambian Classifieds until you work with them personally.

               Quirk glanced out the window to our right, following the Ambassador and his guards on his way to his train, the Cerberus, somewhere behind us. Right on cue, Jaun stood up from our table and started towards the exit. He stopped in the doorway, tapped the wall twice, and then went out quickly, heading through the windy concourse, tailing the Ambassador. Katano followed him soon after, her red dress’ beauty matched only by her determination in stance and posture.

              Turning sideways towards us, she pulled a card from her purse as a final word, flashing it towards the door of the Mr. Mercer’s. As planned, it was the jester: Split up. Good luck.

              Even though I knew about this next part of the plan, I still had to wake myself up. This was about to be a very, very complex mission. We had to keep it complex since those assassin bodyguards are going to be trained by the Highrock Monarchy, which essentially means that they aren’t going to be totally oblivious to any simple plans we could have tried.

              After a brief exercise in calming ourselves the heck down, Quirk and I stood up, with Quirk quickly taking the lead. Foley followed us out the door of the Mr. Mercer’s, and pointed to the Basilisk, signaling us to get aboard.

              Quirk turned to me. He had that glint in his eye, like he does whenever a mission starts. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

              I pushed him forward, gesturing towards the clock that said 9:57 PM / DEPARTING 3 MINUTES. “Save the catchphrases for later, eh, brother?”

              We’d be riding in a train parallel to our target along with the Muffin Patrol, just in case the scheme got a little too complex. Generally, if you want to assassinate someone inhabited by a caustic wolf spirit that makes its host invincible if his surroundings aren’t dead silent, the scheme was almost certainly going to get complex.

              I looked behind us, and watched the Tippy Patrol, Jaun and Katano, board the Cerberus alongside the Ambassador and his guards. Foley turned me back around, a little too forcefully, as we began boarding the double-size train behind it.

              The stewardess, with blond hair and a white and red uniform, was going through her usual spiel of “Let me see your pass. OK, thank you! Welcome aboard the Endossa Basilisk! We hope you enjoy your ride! Thank you for choosing Endossa Voyages!”

              We reached the head of the line fairly quickly. Basically, only a small crowd takes the 10 PM train to Archa, and if they were, they weren’t getting there before daylight.

              The stewardess began, “Let me see your pass.”

              Instead of pulling out a pass, Quirk quickly flashed her a… look. Describing it would take more than a few words. I hoped to the Powers he was doing something I overlooked in the mission notes and not just being a dork.

              She stopped short, then looked the three of us over. Then she winked and resumed being cheery. “Welcome aboard, friends! We hope you enjoy your ride!”

              I punched Quirk in the arm. “Tell me about these things that you do before you do them.”

              He turned to me. “Well if everybody knew about it, Riv, that wouldn’t be very sneaky of me, would it?”

              My anxiety hates him.

              Quirk and I proceeded on board, while Foley stopped for a moment. We didn’t have time to stop for him, but I assumed that stewardess was his patrolmate. We had actually never met the Muffin Patrol in its entirety, since they were from so much farther north near the city of Bander in Highrock. The Patrols that come from inside the wall in Highrock tend to be more secretive in their actions when they work with other patrols, which is actually nothing like Tambian Patrols. Big Top tells me that it’s something about chivalry, but I think it’s probably something a bit more than just principle.

              As soon as we were inside the train-car, I retrieved my communicator from my pants pocket and equipped it while Quirk took off his backpack and began to search through his things looking for his. I signaled him to get back up and move to the storage car, before he endangered the whole mission by looking through his pack at things that were definitely totally illegal to bring onto a train.

              “- lost, repeat, visual with the Ambassador lost. Target is out of sight. Orders please.” Katano’s voice whispered through the communicator on the Ambassador’s train, the Endossa Cerberus, unwavering and without breathing.

              “Hold on.” Tippy Top, somewhere hundreds of miles from here, anxiously searched for the diagram of the Cerberus on her desk. “O….K. Yeah, proceed stealthily and pursue the Ambassador. Don’t lose those guards.”

              “Copy.” Katano quickly muttered under her breath, unfazed.

              I spoke up as we waded through a wave of people towards the back of the train, masked by the hustle and bustle of the crowd. “Salve, this is Big, Biscuit speaking and Quirk standing by. Come in, Star Command.”

              “Hello, friends. This is Star Command, Tippy Top speaking.” Tippy took a breath for what seemed to be the first time since we started traveling to the train station. “How are you, guys? Enjoy the trip? Where’s your commander?”

              Big Top spoke up, sighing from what I can assume was a coffee cup. “Oh, hey. I’m here, I’m listening, don’t worry. You just seemed to have everything under control, Tippy.”

              Tippy nervously laughed as she rustled her papers some more, looking for schematics. “You kidding, dude? This is really, really stressful. We have to protect the Ambassador, Galaxy-Monk Wushe Gol’Tern. That’s such an honor, man.”

              “Doesn’t feel any different from a standard mission, honest. Security detail and all.” Quirk interjected, retrieving the remaining parts of our disguises from his backpack – the bow ties, the suit jackets, and the all-important geodes containing the T.U.X.es. “I’m trying not to stress, can you tell? By the way, name’s Quirk. I use chains.”

              Tippy rolled out a paper, probably a blueprint, on her desk audibly and laughed. “Good to know. And you, Biscuit?”

              I mustered up all my charisma and came out with, “Uh, explosions,” before Quirk threw a number of my costume pieces at me unprepared. I glared at him and he just smiled back.

        ��     “Salve, everybody! How is our role list tonight?” Jaun, the most socially confident of this entire party line, spoke up and got us back on track, his scratchy voice coming through loud and clear. “Kat is already at the other end of the train, I’m sittin’ here in the dining car trying to look natural -- This is... ah... this is awkward. What are the Bigs doing?”

              “We’re just waiting for something to do,” I replied, honestly. I went back over my inventory, tucked in a suitcase, while whispering into the communicator on the floor of the storage car. “I’m not complaining. It’s been years since I’ve ridden on a proper train; gotta get used to it again.”

              “I’ll have something for you to do… I think… soon. It all depends on how quickly tonight’s events go down,” Big Top mumbled through his microphone. “I wonder where Muffin Top is.”

              Tippy drew a breath and replied, “How are we doing, Katano?”

               “Visual reacquired,” Katano interjected. “The guards and the target… are… wait a minute, what are they doing?”

               Tippy refocused, took a swig of her root beer, and examined the diorama again. “What do you mean what are they doing?” Her patrolwoman was dead silent. “Katano!”

               “A-apologies,” Katano whispered again, embarrassed she had made her anxious boss even more anxious by hesitating for a split-second. “They’re… standing in the caboose. Discussing something. They’ve separated.”

               Jaun said, “What’s going on, you think?” Amidst the noise of the storage car, I could hear in the communicator Jaun standing up from his things and moving to the back of his train, trailing his partner.

               “No clue. Can’t get in close, target… Ambassador is blocking the door, standing against it, from the other side,” she replied, stepping towards the window opposite the caboose. “No one else is in that caboose with the three of them. I can hear you moving, just stay put, Jaun.”

               Jaun sat down in a booth, trying to analyze a situation he wasn’t a part of. “Well! Good with me, I guess. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Tippy, this next move is your call.”

               Tippy was typing like mad, looking through records of this kind of behavior. “OK, OK! OK! Just… uh… wait for further instructions. Radio silence. Stake ‘em out. See if you can listen in. OK! OK, radio silence, for reals.”

Without warning, Foley stepped into our storage car, following the stewardess from earlier, kicking us both awake as he passed. They were keeping a quick pace as the stewardess led him to the wall opposite. The stewardess climbed up a gray employee ladder, and Foley followed quickly, giving us a thumbs up.

               Me and Quirk exchanged looks of is this guy for real?

               A voice, likely a golem based on its stilted intonation, spoke on the PA throughout the station, which we only heard muffled through the train car’s windows. “The Endossa Basilisk, train number EV3123, and the Cerberus, train number EV1019, is departing. All aboard!”

               Foley’s hand appeared through the hole in the ceiling, beckoning us upwards. We looked both ways for employees, then we quickly followed Foley up the hatch, suitcases in tow. I didn’t have time to check if anyone entered the car while we were entering what I can only describe as an “out-of-place office.”

               The room it led to was walled with dark brown wood, and was furnished with a bookshelf, an old-fashioned instrument panel, and a few miscellaneous appliances. On the wall was a portrait, oil painted, of a centaur, looked kinda like a scientist, with a scruffy brown beard and a long white coat, with pale spotted fur to match. The label read Gonen Bit’Atren, First Engineer of EV3123. Looked like the room was built 30 years ago judging by the lack of any miniaturization in the appliances.

The stewardess quickly pressed a button near a window to the top left car, and blinds around the room, apparently one-way walls, shut instantly, leaving it lit by a few newly-replaced incandescent bulbs and a red alarm light. Foley and the stewardess took a breath, then the stewardess dropped to the ground against the wall and threw her miniature hat across the room, revealing its microphone.

               Foley grabbed a book off the shelf – I recognized it as A Sorceror’s Guide to Secret Magics (personal favorite of mine, actually) – and quickly tabbed through it as he gestured for us to pull the ladder up. After we pulled the ladder through the miniscule steel hatch, shutting behind us, he nodded and gestured for us to relax a minute. We sat down at a table with steel chairs bolted to the train.

               “Well, here we are,” she said, exasperated. “Welcome to the Classified suite, gents. Name’s Redilee Masterton. Call me Red. Muffin Patrol.”

               Red held out her hand, and Quirk stood went to go shake it. “Hi, name’s Quir---“

               Suddenly, the train car lurched forward, and Quirk fell over on top of her.