Stepping onto platform five he gets sight of his two fellow riders.Two men in their mid-thirties are on the platform, but their age is where any similarities end. The one on his feet stands apart with a presence that commands attention. His frame is tall and lean, exuding an air of coiled strength. His dark hair, trimmed to a practical length, adds to his sharp, clean-cut appearance. The tailored cut of his charcoal black suit speaks of a man who values precision and order, while the subtlety of its expensive fabric hints at an understated wealth. His face, marked by a square jaw and shadowed by stubble, is etched with lines that suggest both experience and resolve. A jagged scar, starting just below his left eye and curving down his cheek, gives him a rugged, almost menacing look. His steel-gray eyes, ever observant, move with a predator's alertness, missing nothing in their surroundings.
He produces a silver cigarette case with a practiced flick of his wrist. Lighting a cigarette, he exhales a stream of smoke before extending the case towards the man sitting across from him. "Care for one?" he offers in a tone that, despite its casualness, carries an underlying sharpness.
The man, seated opposite, accepts with a nod. Lighting the offered cigarette, he responds in a language unknown to Steve..
As Steve approaches, Vito's gaze shifts immediately, scrutinizing the newcomer with an evaluative intensity.
The man sitting looks over and offers Steve a polite smile and calls in a dialect of French foreign to Steve, “ Good day, young man. I see you too have found yourself here at this most peculiar of places. I dare say I hope you find me not a ruffian in my current state, I was unable to freshen up before my departure. I am Lieutenant Gabriel Lucroy of the French Cuirassiers under Emperor Napoleon's command. Or I should say formally now I suppose.”
Gabriel scrunches up his face before saying,” I suppose I should have inquired if you spoke French before introducing myself. God above, I pray you do. I luckily share a common language with this..gentlemen here in the form of Italian, which I studied in the academy.”, He says gesturing to the other man, before adding, “ Though I do use the term gentlemen loosely, if my instincts are to be trusted, but I will let you be your own judge and time mine.”
Steve stares at the man and takes in all that man said trying to process it all before looking at the other man then back. In french he responded, “ Hello, my name is Steve, I speak French, but I am afraid your dialect is new to me. And did you say you served under Napoleon?”
Gabriel’s eyes light up as a smile over takes his face, but before he can the other man remarks in English, his voice carrying the distinctive accent of a New Yorker, "Great, another Frenchie. Can no one but the old man speak English around here?"
Steve, responding in English, introduces himself. Vito’s expression subtly softens, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Ah, an English speaker, finally. I was getting weary of Italian, even though Gabe here has a knack for it." His tone, laced with a mix of sarcasm and relief, reveals a more approachable side. “ And my French is crap.”
Extending his hand, grip firm, his handshake a measure of character. "Vito Hopper," he introduces himself, his eyes piercing, as if peering into Steve’s very essence. Upon releasing the handshake, a faint smirk plays on his lips, an unspoken acknowledgment of Steve's mettle.
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The three men find themselves on an old, wooden bench on the platform, the eerie silence around them punctuated only by the distant whistle of the approaching train far off.
Vito, with his characteristic straightforwardness, breaks the silence. "So, Steve, a young guy like you, what's your deal? What's dragging you onto this ghost train?"
Steve shifts uncomfortably, his eyes briefly meeting Vito's before settling on the tracks. "I... I don't really know. I was being chased by these guys and before I know it I’m on a train.. Life back home isn't exactly great, but this," he gestures to the train, "this is something else."
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Gabriel, who had been quietly observing the landscape, turns towards Steve.. "There is often more beneath the surface, young Steve. Perhaps you seek an escape, or maybe it is destiny that guides you here."
Vito scoffs lightly at the mention of destiny. "Destiny, huh? Never been much of a believer in that stuff. I make my own path. As for me, let's just say I've got my reasons for being on the run. This train... it's a means to an end."
The conversation is momentarily interrupted as the train rolls into the station, its steam hissing and wheels grinding against the track. The conductor steps out, eyeing the trio with a knowing look.
As the conductor checks the train, Gabriel leans in, lowering his voice. "In my time, I have seen many strange things. Wars, revolutions... but this journey, it is unlike any battle I have faced."
Steve looks at Gabriel, curiosity piqued. "You were really under Napoleon?"
Gabriel nods solemnly. "Oui, a lifetime ago. Now, I search for redemption, for peace. This train, perhaps, is my path to that."
Vito, watching the conductor, adds, "We all got our ghosts, Gabe. Me? I got more than my fair share. But hey, if this train can take us somewhere new, somewhere better, then I'm all in."
Steve, absorbing their words, feels a sense of camaraderie with these strangers. They all were running, searching, seeking something that perhaps even they couldn't fully understand.
The conductor returns, signaling that it's time to board. As they stand up, Steve looks at Vito and Gabriel. "Well, wherever this train is taking us, at least we're not alone in this."
Vito claps him on the back with a grin. "Kid's got a point. Let's see what this train's got in store for us."
Gabriel nods, a determined glint in his eyes. "To the unknown, then. May we find what we are looking for."
As Steve, Vito, and Gabriel step onto the train, they are immediately greeted by the conductor. The tall, imposing figure stands at the entrance, his piercing eyes scanning each passenger. "Tickets." he says in a deep, resonant voice.
Vito, with a confident stride, steps forward and presents his ticket. Steve follows suit, fumbling slightly as he hands over his own. Gabriel, with a dignified air, produces his ticket, marked with an intricate design.
Once their tickets are checked, Vito turns to the others with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Gentlemen, how about we make our way to the bar cart? I have it on good authority that they have some of the finest whisky.”
Steve looks surprised. "A bar cart? Really?"
Gabriel, equally intrigued, nods in agreement. "That sounds like an excellent idea. I was unaware of such amenities on this train."
Vito leads the way, moving confidently through the elegantly designed corridors of the train. The interior is a blend of old-world charm and a touch of modern luxury, with polished wood panels and soft, ambient lighting.
They pass empty compartments and silent carriages, the stillness around them adding to the train's mystique. Finally, they arrive at a set of ornate sliding doors. Vito pushes them open, revealing the bar cart.
The cart is like a slice of a luxurious past, decked out in rich mahogany and soft, leather seating. The bar itself is well-stocked, despite the absence of a bartender or any other soul.
"Here we are," Vito declares, stepping behind the bar with an air of familiarity. "Our own private lounge."
Steve and Gabriel follow, taking in the quaint yet lavish setup. The cart, with its vintage charm, feels like a bubble of normalcy on a train that defies the ordinary.
Gabriel selects a seat, his eyes scanning the array of bottles. "This is most impressive. Such luxury."
Steve joins him, the comfort of the leather seat a welcome change. "It's incredible."
As Vito raises his glass in a toast, Steve and Gabriel follow suit. "To the journey ahead, and the company we keep," Vito declares, his voice carrying a blend of warmth and resolve.
Steve, not quite used to such formalities, awkwardly lifts his glass, his movement slightly hesitant. The glasses clink together in a solitary symphony within the empty bar cart. Steve takes a sip of the whiskey and immediately coughs, the strong liquor catching him off guard.
Vito can't help but laugh, a genuine amusement in his eyes. "Whoa there, Steve! That's some strong stuff for the uninitiated. Maybe we should get you something a little weaker."
Gabriel smiles, a hint of amusement on his face as well. "It is an acquired taste, young Steve. Do not worry, we have all been there at one point."
Steve, a bit embarrassed but smiling, nods. "Yeah, I think I underestimated that one."
Vito, still chuckling, reaches behind the bar and pours a milder drink for Steve. "Here, try this instead. It's a bit more forgiving."
Steve accepts the new glass, grateful for Vito's considerate gesture. He takes a tentative sip and finds it much more to his liking. The warmth from the drink, combined with the camaraderie shared among them, creates a comfortable atmosphere, a brief respite from the uncertainties of their journey.
As they continue to chat and share drinks, the train moves steadily through the unknown, the sense of adventure growing with each passing mile.