1. Eliza the Still

Eliza (16) shed a tear.

Inside a small—and currently desolate—market store was a teenage girl stationed at the cashier. Her short black hair reached her chin, and she wore a black apron over a plain white t-shirt. She was seated on a stool, elbows on the metallic counter, cheek on her palm.

I’m bored, she thought.

***

Smile. Even if it’s fake.

That was the first step to customer service as a cashier.

Then write down the items in the record book, count the total price of transaction, give change when necessary, pack items properly in a paper bag, and end the exchange with a grateful note.

Eliza had to repeat this same mind-numbing process for every customer who showed up.

Today she was here. Tomorrow she would be here. Tomorrow’s tomorrow she would also be here. And the next after that. Worst of all: they would all be as uneventful as to-day.

Could she be blamed? For shedding a tear? In this mundane job that was akin to torture?

I’m bored… A tear coursed down Eliza’s cheek.

I wish something interesting comes my way. Anything.

Cling. Cling.

The entrance door was pushed open, disturbing the bell hung on the wooden frame.

Then came a man wearing a brown overcoat, eyes hidden under the shade of his sharp hat. His apparel was the picture definition of the suspicious-person-silhouette in the neighborhood watch sign. All of which succeeded in sparking interest.

Eliza glanced at his pocketed hands.

Knife? Flintlock? she hoped. A grenade would be interesting…

Instead of looking at the array of items on the shelves, like a normal customer would, this man stared at Eliza. Specifically at the metallic name tag on her apron which openly stated her name for the world to see.

The man parted his lips to ask, ‘Are you the specialist-for-hire?’

***

Specialist.

That was a title given to a select few among many. The criteria to become one was never disclosed to public; suppose you were one, you would be given an exclusive card which granted many perks and benefits: access to forbidden places, rights to contact important people, all-in-one license, and many more.

Some surmised that to get the title, one needed to be “inhumane”, as in someone who could shatter established preconceptions.

Wyse (28) looked at her pocket watch; each passing seconds were progressing her anxiety.

She’s a specialist, alright. Her running shoes were tapping on the floor. At being late! Doesn’t she know that she’s supposed to be on time?! I swear I’ll lose my mind at this rate!

‘The clock has struck three,’ the conductor announced through the speaker. ‘The train will be leaving soon.’

Where in the world is she?!

Seated inside the train, Wyse looked outside through two glasses: one being her black shades’, the other being the window’s. She hoped to spot the person she was waiting for running to catch the train. However, much to her dismay, the platform was void of people.

Whiiiee!! The steam whistle blew. The train waited for no one.

The wheels began to roll, rocking the carriage into a rough start. The train was leaving—and Wyse was on her own. As the vehicle gained distance from the station, stress was devouring her from the inside.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Everything will be alright. Everything will be—

Knock. Knock.

Someone, perhaps ally; mayhap foe, was outside the door of her compartment.

***

Tick… Tick…

The clock at the market store pointed to slightly after twelve.

Eliza stared at the man. A customer, she thought.

‘Yes, I’m the specialist-for-hire,’ Eliza said, wiping her tear with her wrist. ‘How may I be of service?’

With alacrity, the man cut to the chase. He leaned in, placed both palm on the cashier’s metallic counter, and said, ‘I need you to escort my wife away to another city.’

Her lips curved a slight smile. Sounds promising. ‘Why?’

‘She’s not safe here. Look, I’ll be honest with you, I’m desperate. I’d rather she be escorted with someone I know, but I don’t know who to trust these days. Which brings me to you, someone completely unrelated to the matter I’m dealing with, who, unfortunately, is currently someone I can trust most.

‘I’ve heard about you, and I believe it’s relatively safe for me to put my faith in your reputation. Please, name your price. I’m willing to give you all that I…’ He trailed off, noticing Eliza showing her palm, telling him to stop.

‘…’

This is too interesting to miss. Compared to working at the cashier, the prospect of this job was definitely less boring. Not to mention, there were two points that attracted her attention: the escort being not safe and the man’s desperation. He was willing to pay all that he had. That desperate! But I can’t just accept any job! Ugh…

‘I will need more details before I could consider further.’

‘Considering the matter at hand, I believe it’s best that you don’t know.’

‘Then, as much as I would like to take the job, I cannot. For all I know, your wife might be an arsonist trying to escape from the constables.’

‘… I see your point, truly. Again, however, I believe that it’s best that you don’t know. Because possessing the knowledge might put you in danger. If, however, sharing the details is what will convince you to escort my wife to safety, and that you would like to listen while fully aware of the risk, then I wouldn’t mind sharing.’

Can’t miss out on this. ‘Go shoot.’

The man took off his hat, revealing his distinctions: thin black hair and eyes surrounded by tired wrinkles. From his pocket he took out—not a grenade, sadly—his wallet; from it, his credentials: an identity card with a picture that matched with his face, and an employee card with a name that matched with the name written in the identity card. ‘Journalist for occupation,’ he, Tavar (31), explained. ‘I’m making an article that’ll bring a corrupt politician to justice. I’m sure you’re aware of Ganesh?’

Eliza had not the slightest idea who that was.

‘Our mayor.’

‘Mm-hm…’

‘You ought to read the news more… His name is often mentioned there…’

‘It’s not my fault they’re boring. Anyway, this isn’t about me.’

‘Right. Basically, Ganesh has this public image of being a good person. Often conducts auction among the upper classes for charity’s sake. However, my recent investigation has shown me that his charity auction is a ruse. A cover for him to accept bribes undetected.

‘He’s recently become aware of my prying, and I fear for the safety of my wife. In fact, there have been attempts on kidnapping her, which I only barely managed to prevent. I assume that he wants to keep my wife hostage to keep me on a leash. That’s why I need help to escort my wife away to safety.

‘I’m willing to pay all that I have. Please.’

… The manager will chew me out if this turns out to be a bad job. After all, she had no way of confirming whether his story was truthful.

Eliza stared at Tavar. Saw the desperation in his expression.

But… this is too interesting to miss. Eliza smiled. ‘Leave this to me.’

***

‘Damned girl,’ Rigor (38) cursed. The huge bald man cracked his broken nose straight. One of his eyes was black from a hit, and the right side of his head was bleeding. He was seated on a haystack inside the tail end carriage of the train.

‘What happened?’ asked an underling. ‘You almost missed the train. Also, where are the others?’

‘Damned anima-user, that’s what.’ Rigor blew out the blood from his nose. ‘Beat everyone who’s not here.’

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

‘Everyone??’

‘Anima-user?’ Another underling asked.

‘Specialist.’ Rigor answered the latter, ignoring the former. ‘Damned journalist, that Tavar. Hired Eliza the Still and must have given her a list of our faces.’

‘Who’s Eliza the Still?’

‘Eliza the Still—’

The specialist-for-hire was known as a selfish person who cared only for her self-interest. Never took the boring jobs; inactive most of the time, hence the moniker: Eliza the Still. Hearsays had claimed that when Eliza the Still decided to move, she would be akin to a chaotic storm. That description did justice to describe her assault on Rigor’s men outside the train.

‘—doesn’t matter,’ Rigor answered. ‘Nothing to worry about. I don’t know anything about her ability, but if she’s here inside this train, I will win. No more time to waste.’ Rigor stood up. ‘Let’s secure our hostage.’

Followed by two underlings, he marched.

***

Knock. Knock.

Ally or foe? To declare or to conceal her presence?

Wyse was frozen in place, not knowing what to do.

Blam! Blam!

Startled by the slams, Wyse backed far away from the door until her shoulder blade touched the train’s windowsill. Tears welled in her eyes. What should I do.

She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.

***

‘I want a divorce,’ Wyse had said, tears trailing down her cheeks.

‘…’ Tavar stared with his eyes wide, tormented by her demand. His lips parted, but no words came out. Reluctantly, he—nodded.

‘Is that how it is? Not even a word.’

Tavar remained silent.

‘You can let go your job or your wife, and this is your choice? So be it. I’ve chosen a fool for a husband.’ Wyse turned and walked away.

He was a fool, someone who couldn’t turn a blind eye to wrong doings which he could act to stop. If only he pretends to have never seen the wrong doings, he could live in peace with me and…

More tears flowed.

He was a fool. Wyse knew that.

After all, that was the same quality that made her love him. Deep down, she could tell that this breakout wasn’t his fault, but hers, for not being able to stand by his side and support him.

She hated this truth.

***

Wham!

Wyse opened her eyes. In her gaze was despair and resolve.

The door had been forced open by a kick. Coming into Wyse’s view was a huge, bald man wearing a smug smile on his face, Rigor. ‘Looks like you’re alo—!’

His smug shifted to surprise.

‘…’ Cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

Wyse, the wife of a righteous fool, was not going down without a fight. She had to support his cause in ways that she could accomplish. There she was, having opened the window of her compartment, and was sitting on the sill. I’m only valuable if I’m a hostage.

‘You’ll be damned if you fall from there.’

‘I’m aware.’ The train was moving at a speed that blurred the scenery. She understood full well regarding her fate if she fell. ‘Don’t even dare take a step inside.’

‘…’ He stared with an intense gaze, one which she returned. If anything, it was her who intimidated him. Changing his approach, he leaned back and casually asked, ‘Have you ever travelled through this track before?’

Was that meant to distract her?

‘I’ll take that silence as a “no”.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘See, you’ve made two mistakes:

‘First, if you’re resolved to die, you should have jumped already. What purpose is there in stalling? This train is bound to reach a station and stop, making your threat impossible over time;’

‘I will jump if I have to.’

‘Second,’ he continued, ‘you don’t know this track as well as I do. Where I’m standing, I can see the view behind you and guess where this train is at. I know that right around here—the track is faulty.’

CHUG!

The train shook violently, lifting Wyse shortly, then causing her to slip and fell—into the train’s compartment.

The man’s smug returned. He pulled back his coat, revealed a holster on his waist, and pulled out his flintlock. He aimed the barrel at Wyse’s thigh. ‘You would have fallen outside if you had kept your legs outside the window.’

After the fall, Wyse had kept a hand on her stomach. I’m sorry… My bluff failed…

‘?’ He tilted his head, finding her gesture odd. ‘Ah… So that’s why…’

Now that her enemy knew, her value as a hostage would only double. However, considering her situation, she had no choice. All that was left for her to do now was to beg for him not to shoot. Please…

‘Sadly, against you, I’m not taking my chances. Blame your husband for messing with the wrong person.’ With his thumb he pulled the hammer. With his index finger he pulled the trigge—

Wham!

The man suffered a kick from the side, strong enough to blow him away. Then, landing within the door’s frame was a teenage girl. She wore a black apron over a white shirt and had short black hair that reached her chin. Her youth and hairstyle were exactly as the description that her husband had given of her escort.

‘Get to the front carriage,’ the escort ordered. ‘Now.’

Wyse quickly got to her feet. She went out of the compartment, ran past two fallen men on the floor, and reached the door of the carriage. Before closing and locking it, however, Wyse noticed that her escort was staying behind.

She was staring at the huge, bald man who was getting back up.

‘Will you be alright?’ Wyse asked.

‘Leave him to me.’

***

The train’s steam whistle howled.

Both fighters exchanged stares inside that moving carriage.

‘Personally,’ Rigor said as he eased his left arm; although he had blocked her kick, the impact had shaken his skull, ‘I think train is an amazing transportation. Travelling through this beast is better than any other.’

‘You clearly have never ridden an iron horse before…’ Eliza said.

Rigor shook his head as he stood up. ‘Damned iron horse. What’s there to like about that thing?’

‘The wind feels great riding that.’ Eliza stretched by pulling her hands back. ‘Are you done stalling?’

‘!’ Rigor held back a laugh. ‘So you were waiting for me…’

Eliza gave Rigor an unamused stare. One which unintentionally hurt his pride.

‘Careful, Eliza the Still. It’s always people like you who… doesn’t last!’ Rigor, having recovered, dashed toward Eliza, spreading his arms for a tackle.

Reacting to this, Eliza lifted her left leg. She swayed her upper body for momentum, twisted the floor with her pivot foot, and swung her leg.

With how she had timed her attack, his jaw would land right on where her left foot would be. It was a moment before impact—that Eliza encountered an occurrence that would shatter her established preconceptions. A happening that defied the law of physics. Seemingly like a movie that suddenly paused, Rigor had—without any motion—stopped his dash in an instant.

Swish!

Her round kick sliced the air, missing.

That was, without a doubt, his ability. Seeing this and having missed her kick, Eliza—smiled.

What ability is that? Eliza wondered, excited. He didn’t use it against me in our previous encounter outside the train.

With his tackle having been stopped, Rigor lifted his arms to take a boxing stance, and threw a right jab. This jab, Eliza noticed, was odd. It was thrown with speed and not power, but with that tiny strength, he would hardly harm her. Not to mention, his fist was loose, as if his intentions was to touch her.

Should I assume that your ability requires contact to affect me? Eliza analyzed. I need to dodge it. Or… should I? she wondered whilst mid-sway. I don’t know what his ability could do, but, ugh… I’m curious! Letting the ability affect me once can’t hurt, right? Right??

Eliza slowed her sway, just enough to only let Rigor’s finger graze the tip of her nose.

What followed soon after, Eliza perceived, was Rigor’s quick sidestep, and—Blam!—Eliza’s full front body crashed onto the train carriage’s door. Wha—?

The impact hurt, the pain was so blunt that she felt as if she had been crushed. She was wrong about not being hurt, but more importantly…

I teleported? She had crashed to the carriage door that was toward the tail of the train. Eliza glanced over her shoulder to see Rigor. No. That was…

‘“Unmoving”, that’s my ability,’ Rigor explained. He knew that she already knew and showed his palm to her. ‘I can stop what I touch on its tracks.’

… So that’s how it is. You didn’t use your ability in our previous encounter because Unmoving isn’t a threat by itself. Now that I’m inside a moving train, however…

When Rigor had grazed Eliza, he had killed her momentum with his ability. Whilst she remained where she was, the train kept moving forward. That was why Rigor moved out of the way and why she crashed onto the carriage’s door. She had been hit with the full force of a train—

No. Eliza turned. Her body ached, but she could still move as she wanted. If that was the full force of the train, I wouldn’t be standing. Perhaps because I only let him graze me, he couldn’t kill all my momentum, which lessened the impact of the crash.

This isn’t… bad…! Her smile was much like an innocent child having fun in a playground. Let’s go for another round.

Eliza pressed the floor with her foot and dashed toward Rigor.

‘!’ Immediately, Rigor touched the carriage’s door behind him, endowing it with his Unmoving. Right after he stepped to the side, the door, having lost its momentum while the train haven’t, detached itself from its hinge and was—from Eliza’s perspective—flung toward her with a blurring speed.

She followed suit and stepped to the side, dodging and continuing her dash.

Bam! The door crashed on another door behind.

Rigor, having forced Eliza to dodge, had opted to seek counter-initiative and dashed. If the distance was to be closed anyway, he seemed to prefer that he had a part on the pace. He threw a left jab, while she a left side kick.

Using his ability, he killed just the momentum of his left jab. He had only thrown his left jab as a feint, one that was unnatural to track in the eyes of the unfamiliar. His real purpose in this exchange was to guard against her kick and grab her leg. Expecting her kick, he guarded with both arms.

Wham!!

He felt that; the blow pierced his guard, rendering him stunned.

One more kick to end thi—

‘!’ The distance between her and him widened by a gap in an instant.

He managed to kill my momentum.

Blam!!

Eliza’s back crashed toward the wall of the carriage, right beside the now doorless doorway. The crash this time was heavier than before. A crushing pain that echoed throughout inside. Her knees were weak, but she leaned her weight to the caved wall and remained standing. It wasn’t touch, but contact. That’s how he killed my momentum.

Not bad…

Her opponent was also leaning on a wall, remaining standing as best as he could.

‘Let’s…’ he uttered, ‘make a deal…

‘I’ll let you escort her first to her destination. Once you get the money from Tavar, then I’ll get her as hostage. Win-win for both of us. How about it?’

‘Never.’

‘!’ Rigor was slightly surprised by the speed of her response. There was no hesitation from her at all. ‘Don’t you take jobs for money? Why else if not that?’

Why else? ‘Because…’

Back in the market store, Eliza had seen Tavar’s desperation in his expression. Seeing that, she understood: the reason why he was desperate, without a doubt, was because he loved his wife dearly.

‘… the job is interesting.’ Eliza smiled.

‘… You’re just as the rumors say.’ Rigor let go of the wall and stood up on his own.

‘What does the rumors say?’ Eliza too stood up on her own. There was no problem with her movement.

‘Someone selfish.’

‘… I guess the rumors aren’t wrong.’ Eliza reached for her feet, took off her shoes, and her bare feet touched the floor. She could feel the rocking of the train beneath, could sense the shaking of the carriage, and could perceive more of her surroundings. As if her bubble of awareness had expanded.

‘Finally feel like using your ability?’

‘Not really. I just can get a grasp of the ground better with those off.’ In a fight without using her ability, this was Eliza at her best. ‘You’re not boring, but you’re not interesting either. Not enough for me to use my ability against.’

‘You’ll regret that.’

‘I doubt.’ Eliza turned sideways and placed her left foot in front.

Both fighters exchanged stares. They knew that their battle would end with this final exchange.

Stealing the initiative, Eliza pressed forward. To which, Rigor then made what seemed to be an instantaneous dash. He had killed his momentum with Unmoving and covered the gap between them in a blink.

Eliza—had expected that.

As Rigor threw a quick jab, Eliza could track and dodge the attack. To which, she could weave her way through, swap position with him, and lower the effectiveness of his Unmoving. But I don’t want to win in such a boring way.

Vwap!

She caught his fist. And she wasn’t letting go. Now, would you take this risk and activate your ability? Eliza anticipated.

Rigor made a nervous smile as he saw Eliza swinging her leg. ‘Damned specialist.’

Guess not.

Wham!

Her kick landed directly to his skull. Rendering him unconscious—not dead, for she held back—and causing him to fall.

Now that her opponent was defeated, she first had to check on the safety of her client’s wife. Thus, she let go of his fist, and headed toward the front carriage of the train. As she left, she glanced over her shoulder, looking at her fallen opponent.

‘You weren’t interesting, but you weren’t boring either.’ Eliza smiled. ‘Thanks for the fight.’

***

‘Could you… tell my husband that I’m expecting?’ Wyse told Eliza.

Wyse had stepped off the train, while Eliza remained in the train. Her job as an escort, of bringing her to another city that was far from her enemy’s influences, was done. She would be safe here without her help.

‘I need him to come back to me safe and sound to discuss a name for the child.’

‘… I don’t want to.’ Eliza smiled. Their relationship is too interesting to ignore. ‘You should tell him yourself. I’ll make sure that he returns to you safe and sound. Until then, stay safe and—

‘—leave this to me.’