"That's fun," Carl said dryly. "I just got an achievement that implies derailing the train is going to have unforeseen consequences 'that will ripple throughout the rest of the floor, leading to mass confusion and death amongst you and your fellow crawlers.'"

I bit my lip until it bled to keep myself from saying 'I told you so.'

"On the other hand, Gold box," he said, clearly trying to find a bright side.

We hurried down the steps to see what we had wrought; as expected, the train had derailed, the engine car jackknifing and skidding along, ripping up the tracks until it slammed crosswise into the exit tunnel. The other cars had piled into that in a wave of destruction that rippled down the train. When I opened my map up all the way I could see the red X's of corpses all up and down the cars...and, surprisingly, a fair number of survivors.

The top (formerly left side) of the engine car flipped back, revealing a door where there had been only smooth metal. Someone climbed out and hopped off onto the platform.

Gore-Gore the ManTauR. Level 40.

Ochre Line Train Engineer.

Of all the 'taurs out there, from Centaurs to Bisontaurs to Rhinotaurs, the ManTauR is one of the weirdest. Half human, and, uh, half human, the ManTauR has been genetically engineered for both strength and dexterity, making them perfect for the grueling and thankless job of Tangle Train Engineer.

Unfortunately, the act of making these magnificent, large-footed beasts oftentimes results in creatures with double amounts of testosterone and whatever else makes humans so prone to overt masculinity and hyper, overenthusiastic piety toward their god of choice.

"Hail, brother and sister!" Gore-Gore bellowed, striding towards us. "And Princess atop a most fearsome mount! Hail and well-met! Glad I am that you have survived the crash!"

"Uh...sure," Carl said, eyeing the ManTauR with the same mild horror that I was feeling.

Gore-Gore was easily three meters tall and five hundred kilos, all of it muscle. He looked like someone had cloned the most overbuilt, over-muscled powerlifter on Earth, doubled him in every dimension, and then cut his head off and used the stump to mount the upper half of the original power lifter. The lower body was bent over, capable of running on two legs like a human or on four legs (well, two legs and two enormous lower arms) making the whole creature semi-centauroid. He was covered head to toe in tribal tattoos and wore slashes of blue body paint on his face. His upper body carried a trainman's hat like we had gotten when we arrived on the level, plus a white muscle shirt with the legend 'Welcome to the Gun Show' and arrows pointing to his bulging biceps.

His upper arms were thicker than my thighs. His lower arms were thicker than my waist. It was terrifying.

"Come!" Gore-Gore shouted. "We must away up the stairs before the following train arrives! It shall crash, as shall the one behind. Three, perhaps four shall be lost before Central learns of the loss and sends an interdiction team to clear the track. Until then, we must flee that we may live to battle anon!" He strode past us, walking on his legs and lower arms.

"Hang on," Carl said, running after him but not reaching out to catch his arm. "There's still creatures on the train, including the conductor. Shouldn't we go rescue him?" It was true; I could see the white dot labeled Tyrese. Ochre Line Train Conductor. Dwarf. Level 35 moving around in the overturned conductor's car.

Gore-Gore glanced back over one shoulder; his shoulder muscles were so enormous that he needed to twist his torso to do it. He shook his head, faced forward again, and extended his stride. "Nay. They are lost already. There is no time!"

We rushed to stay even with him as he moved up the stairs without a pause. At the top he looked around and saw the Vanquisher Club.

"Ah!" he shouted. "A hall of heroes! A place where a man may have a quaff and a bite with pleasure!"

"Hey, hold up," Carl said. "I want to ask you something."

"What? Have you no hunger? Let us go within and feast!"

Carl: Donut, do your thing.

"Excuse me, sir?" Donut said from her perch on Mongo's saddle. "Could we please ask you some questions before we go in?"

"Of course!" Gore-Gore said, her Charisma pulling him up short. "My duty is to serve the customers of the Tangle, especially Princesses! How may I please you, Highness?!"

How was it that this bellowing strongman was the only person in the dungeon who knew the difference between royal titles?

"Could you please not shout?" Donut asked. "It upsets Mongo." Mongo squawked in fervent agreement.

Carl: Now you know how I feel when you type in all caps.

Donut: THAT'S NOT THE SAME THING, CARL.

"I shall do my best, Princess! I have no wish to upset you, or your faithful steed!"

Give him credit, he clearly was trying to be quiet. He was just really, really bad at it.

"Mind telling us about the end of the line?" Carl asked.

Gore-Gore shifted uncomfortably. "You mean Terminus Station, the great transit hub?"

"No, I mean stations 435 and 436. What's there?"

"Those...those stations are not safe for passengers. You are strongly recommended to get off at Terminus, station 433. It is the last transit station. The stops beyond it are for employees only."

"What about 434?"

"It is barren. I believe it was canceled due to budget cuts."

"And what about 435?"

Gore-Gore grimaced. When he spoke his voice was lower and his eyes kept flicking around nervously, as though afraid someone might overhear. And, strangely, there was guilt in his voice. "Station 435 is where the employees disembark in order to be returned to the trainyard at station 10. There is a tunnel, at the end of which is a portal operated by the Kravyad."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"And you?" Carl asked. "Vernon said that the engineers don't go back that way, so I'm guessing you drive the train back around. Right?"

"I...I..."

"Please answer, Gore-Gore," Donut said. "I should be very grateful to you for helping us understand this amazing Tangle of yours."

Both of the bizarre man's chests swelled with pride. "Of course, Your Highness!" The enthusiasm died down again as his mind struggled against the very uncharacteristic action that Donut's ridiculous Charisma stat was urging on him. He lost.

"I pray you do not think less of me for what I reveal," he said.

"Of course not!" / "Definitely not." / "It's cool, man."

"You truly are a princess, and you have trained your minions well in the arts of kindness and generosity," he said. "There is not truly a 'station 436'. No platform or stairs. It is merely an immense portal just after station 435. I drive the train through it and the engine and I are returned to station 4, the depot. Just the engine. The other nineteen cars are gone like that." He snapped fingers the size of sausages. "I retreat to my quarters to eat a heroic meal and sleep. When I awaken, the train has been refurbished and the passenger cars reattached. I walk the line doing all the necessary checks, then I begin the next run by driving to station 10 to pick up the employees."

"Hang on," Carl said. "You said that you sleep. The conductors said they go through the portal and they're immediately on the platform again."

"I suppose they lose time? Perhaps it's the portal, or perhaps it's the dark magics of the Kravyad. I tell you true, it's nine or ten hours all told from when I enter the depot to when I begin my next run."

"Okay," Carl said. "What about the other cars being gone? How does that work exactly?"

Gore-Gore shrugged all four shoulders. "My kind think magic is dishonor so I am not educated in its mysteries. All I can say is what I see. I approach the portal, there is a flash of foul green light, and I am at the depot. I hate it. I hate the portal and having to use it, but I am a good employee and honor requires that I follow the terms of my contract, so I do it."

"As you should," Donut said firmly. Gore-Gore swelled in pleasure at her approval.

"Thank you, Princess. In any case, the passenger cars are deep-cleaned before being reattached. Damage is repaired, all is put to rights. Bodies are removed...usually."

"Usually?"

"Yes. Bodies that were dead when the train entered the portal. The bones of those who enter alive are left as a warning for others."

Carl nodded thoughtfully. "You're alive. The engine doesn't get deep-cleaned?"

"It does not."

"So if we rode with you we'd be safe?"

"Alas, you seem like stalwart and valiant fighters, but the rules of the Tangle are that only engineers may enter the engine cars."

"Oh, sweetie, can't you make an exception?" Donut cajoled. "I promise we won't tell anyone and it would be so exciting! We would be very grateful."

Gore-Gore shook his tattooed head firmly. "Nay. I regret that I cannot grant you this boon, Princess. I have taken oath!" He had been speaking quietly for a time, probably disheartened by the admission of all the dishonorable portal-using, but the last words reminded him of his persona and his voice once more boomed at painful volume.

"Okay, okay," Carl said, raising his hand in placation. "But, just out of curiosity...if we were in the engine car somehow, we'd be okay, right?"

Claws as long as swords snapped out of all four wrists. "The portal would not kill you, but I would have no choice but to do it myself! Such are the rules of the Tangle!"

Carl stepped back. "Right. One last question and then we'll let you go."

Thank you, Carl, for not checking to see if I had any questions.

"Ask your question, valiant warrior! I thirst, and the place of respite beckons!" He gestured to the Club Vanquisher doorway.

"You came out of the engine car because the train crashed. Is there any other reason you would ever come out?"

"Nay! Never shall an engineer leave his train while it is intact, save to do the safety checks before the run. This is the rule of the Tangle!" The blades slikted back up into his arms leaving a trail of blood running down his hands. "Farewell, brave warriors! I look forward to bearing you on my train once more in the future!" He turned and walked into the Club Vanquisher entrance.

Donut blasted him in the back of the head with a pair of Magic Missiles before he had taken two steps. Mongo shrieked and leaped to the attack, claws extended forward to rend and tear—

—and then he froze, unsupported in midair.

B-b-boss Battle!

Oh no.

Our portraits appeared in mid-air, stacked in a grid with Carl and Donut on top and me and Mongo on the bottom. I got last billing.

VERSUS!

GORE-GORE THE MANTAUR! TRAIN ENGINEER! NEIGHBORHOOD BOSS! ADHERENT OF GRULL THE WAR GOD! BERSERKER EXTREME! LEVEL 40!

Damnit!

The world unlocked and Mongo resumed moving at his original speed. He was centimeters from tearing through Gore-Gore's spine when the ManTauR whipped around, blades snapping out from his hands, and struck Mongo across the face. Fortunately, the bird was too close and he got hit by Gore-Gore's fist instead of the blades or he would have been carved into neat strips. He got thrown to the side, shrieking in pain as his health went instantly into the red.

"Position three!" Carl shouted, charging forward. Donut dropped back, rushing to Mongo's side and using a Heal Critter scroll to bring him back from the edge of death. She was supposed to be circling around to try for another headshot from behind, but getting our third front-liner into the fight was likely a better move since her first two shots had barely dinged Gore-Gore's health bar despite having their damage boosted by being headshots and from behind.

I moved to Carl's left as he charged forward, shifting into my blocking shape as I did. Adrenaline was surging through me, reducing the pain of combat-speed shapeshifting to only a dull stab. The team had acknowledged my pathetic damage potential, so my job was to use Catcher to keep Carl from being hit while he and his spiked gauntlet dealt damage. It was humiliating, but at least I could contribute.

Gore-Gore charged to meet us, moving ridiculously fast for his massive bulk. Donut cast her Hole spell on the ground in front of him, hoping to trip him up, but it was only first level and therefore only three centimeters deep. Gore-Gore wobbled but didn't slow down.

Carl slammed into him, gauntlet first, with a solid shot to the ribs, then stepped aside from a downward claw strike that should have killed him in one blow. I tried to reach for it to deflect it, but I was too slow.

Two more Magic Missiles slammed Gore-Gore in the face, rocking his head back and giving me the space I needed to duck inside the arc of the lower-right arm that was trying to cut me in half. I got hit with the forearm instead of the blades, and it was still enough to knock 10% off my health. Worse, the claws retracted so that Gore-Gore could clamp his arm around me, pinning me tight against him.

"It says that Magic Missiles are ineffective!" Donut shouted.

"Foul magic!" Gore-Gore shouted. "I had thought you valiant warriors, but I see you are only cowards!" His upper right arm stabbed down at me, claws aiming for my neck. I ducked as much as I could and managed to get my arm under his, pushing up and out to deflect the attack past me. He ended up punching me in the head, knocking another chunk off my health, but the blades missed. Instead he squeezed down, crushing the air out of my lungs.

Lightning shot through me as Carl punched Gore-Gore on the other side; Carl must have cast Bang Bro on his gauntlet in order to add fire and electric damage to his attacks. It didn't do quite as much damage to me as Gore-Gore's swats but it certainly didn't tickle either.

My face was mushed into Gore-Gore's chest, so I couldn't see what was happening with him and Carl. The ManTauR kept spinning, pulling me around and off-balance. I was keeping up with the turns, helped by the Surefooted buff I got from the ridiculous heels— Wait!

I stamped down on Gore-Gore's foot, ramming an invulnerable stilleto spike between his foot bones and making him shout in pain. Then I kneed him in the balls.

He grunted and bent over, his grip going slack enough that I could slip free. His upper-right hand lashed out, claws extended again. I deflected it, turning a disemboweling strike into a mere line of cold pain across the back of my hand. There was a clinking sound from behind me, but I ignored it.

On the other side of the fight, Gore-Gore had managed to grab Carl around the neck with his upper left arm. He lifted him off the ground and—

Carl's Protective Shell activated, the shimmering dome expanding rapidly out from Carl's skin and throwing Gore-Gore away. Unfortunately, it didn't do anything to break his grip on Carl's throat. He was pulled along with the raging ManTauR, the two of them tumbling down the stairs towards the platform where the ruined Ochre-line train waited.

I unthinkingly reached out to catch them and froze when I saw the stump of my hand.

All four fingers, cleanly removed at the base. The thumb was still there, but my hand ended at my palm.

I looked to the side and saw the source of the clinking sound from a moment ago: My fingers, where they had bounced across the blood-dotted slates.