All around him, the city burned. Alain could only watch as the flames engulfed everything, consuming buildings and flesh alike. Men, women, and children screamed as the sea of fire washed over them, burning their flesh down to bone, and then their bones down to ash, the entire time spewing acrid inky-black smoke into the sky.

Alain took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest as one hand fell to his hip, reaching for his revolver. His hand curled around the grip, and he went to pull it free of its leather housing before a small voice interrupted, just barely audible over the crackling of the fire and the screams of the injured and dying.

"Alain…"

His eyes went even wider, and he froze the moment the strained voice reached his ears. A moment later, he turned, yanking his Colt out of its holster as he did so. But there was no enemy standing before him; rather, it was Sable, impaled to the ground with a large wooden stake through her chest. She grimaced in agony, trying vainly to lift her head. She opened her mouth once more, black blood pouring from it, and said only two words to him.

"They're… coming…"

And then her body seized one final time, and she laid still.

Alain stared at her body for a moment, shocked beyond the point of being able to even move, before rushing to her side and trying to rouse her.

"Sable!" he called, tears stinging at his eyes. "Sable, please!"

But she remained silent as the grave, her eyes blankly staring up at the smoke-filled sky, one final expression of pain forever etched across her porcelain skin. Alain grimaced, grinding his teeth as he forced himself to stand up. His other friends were nowhere to be found, but if Sable hadn't managed to survive, then he doubted any of the others would have managed it, either.

Then, from within the smoke and the flames, he heard it – the galloping of hooves colliding against the cobblestone streets of the city. Alain braced himself, leveling his revolver towards the first one that came erupting out of the blackness as he thumbed the hammer back. It was a demon of some kind, that much he was sure of, but he couldn't tell exactly which kind; all he knew was that it was humanoid in appearance. It was covered in blackened iron armor, stained red with the blood of the countless innocents it had already killed, as was the midnight-black sword held in its hand. Its mount – a skeletal horse, held together by some kind of dark magic – turned towards Alain and fixed him with a glare, its empty eye sockets blazing with hatred.

Alain let out a feral yell as he pulled the trigger, his sights centered directly on the demonic rider's head.

A dull click echoed through the streets.

Alain looked down to his gun in surprise, only to find that the cylinders were full of fired casings. Frantically, he opened the loading gate on his weapon and tried to push the rounds out to reload, but it was too late; the rider began to advance towards him, his sword glinting from the nearby firelight as he raised it high in the sky.

"Alain."

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Alain watched the blade come down. The sword inched towards him, the wicked-looking edge aimed directly for his throat.

"Alain."

His life flashed before his eyes. He saw everything, as far back as he could remember – his childhood, working on the farm with his parents… the fire that had changed everything in his life by taking his parents away. He saw his first meeting with Sable and Az, as well as their journey together. It passed by in a split-second, and somehow, in that moment, it all seemed so insignificant.

This was the way the world was going to end, he realized – with his head rolling across the city streets as an army of demons spread forth from the Underworld.

It had all been for nothing, after all.

"Alain!"

XXX

Someone shook him, and coupled with the sound of his name being called, that was enough to rouse Alain from his slumber. He catapulted awake, sucking in deep breaths of air in a futile attempt to calm his pounding heart. His eyes darted around, like an animal caught in a trap; it took him a moment to realize they were still on the train.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It had only been a few hours since the gates to the Underworld had opened right in the middle of San Antonio. Colonel Stone had ushered them all onto a train to Washington DC, and after a moment to address his men, had joined them along with a small contingent of soldiers. It was of little reassurance, however; the Underworld was being contained, but nobody was under any illusions that the situation was completely under control.

And now it was time to answer for it all.

To that end, the four of them – Alain himself, Sable, Az, and Danielle – had all been summoned to appear before Congress. It was almost funny – part of him had always wanted to see the nation's capitol back when he was a boy, and now that he was actually going there, he was dreading it.

Not that it was difficult to understand why, of course.

Someone gently nudged him on the shoulder, and Alain blinked before turning to his left. Sable was seated there, all but pushed up against him due to how tight the train car was, and she was giving him a concerned look. Alain, for his part, hurriedly averted his gaze, grunting as he did so.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"A few hours," Sable reported. "We're nearly there. Shouldn't be more than an hour by now."

"Hm…"

Sable hesitated. "...You were dreaming," she said. "It didn't sound good."

"It wasn't," Alain told her. He let out a wide yawn. "Then again, I doubt I'm the only one."

"Contrary to belief…?" Az gruffly said. "You're the only one of us who's slept at all so far."

Alain blinked, taken by surprise at his statement. Sable and Az weren't a surprise in that regard, but Danielle certainly was. He turned towards her; she was utterly exhausted, he could tell, with dark rings under her eyes, to say nothing of the fact that she was still covered in demon blood, small cuts and bruises, and had a small trickle of blood leaking out of her ears.

"Don't," she warned him.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he explained.

"Good, because I'm not sleeping right now," she stated. "Tired as I am, I'd rather not see what's waiting for me on the other side."

Alain scowled, but he couldn't fault her logic, not when he'd just fallen victim to his own mind. At least, he was hoping it was just a dream more than anything.

He'd never had a premonition before, but with the state of the world now, he wouldn't have been surprised to begin experiencing those as well.

With shaking hands, Alain reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and his book of matches. He lit one up and took a drag from the cigarette, savoring the smoke as it entered his lungs. Next to him, Sable's brow furrowed, but she said nothing.

He knew she hated it when he smoked – apparently, whatever chemicals were inside the cigarettes made his blood taste foul for some time afterwards. Normally, he'd indulge her and try to quit, but not now.

Not when he'd just seen her die, and the world end.

Alain went to take another drag from his smoke, only for a sudden crack outside to take him by surprise. He jumped a bit, fumbling to keep hold of the cigarette held in his fingers, and only just barely managed to avoid dropping it as his other hand reached for his holstered revolver. He didn't get a chance to clear leather before a chorus of shouting erupted from a nearby train car, followed shortly thereafter by a long burst from what had to be a Gatling gun. Alain winced as the ear-piercing sound rattled his already-pounding head, though he didn't take his hand off the grip of his pistol, an act which didn't go unnoticed by Az.

"Relax," the greater demon told him. "Stone's men have it handled."

"I'm sure they do," Alain replied. "But I'm not taking any chances. Not after what we've just been through."

"And I understand your misgivings, but there is little you can do to assist."

"What was that, anyway? Someone taking potshots at the train?"

Sable shrugged. "Probably cultists. I imagine they've all been quite emboldened by the recent events in San Antonio."

Alain let out a breath. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Probably…" He shook his head. "Do we have a final death toll yet?"

"Alain-"

"I know, I know. But it's bothering me. I want to be sure of exactly how many people we lost."

"It's not good for you to dwell on such things."

"I'm aware." He placed the cigarette back between his lips, then let out a sigh, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "...I just… I don't know, Sable. It's bothering me."

She pursed her lips, then shook her head. "There's nothing final yet. There likely won't be for some time. I imagine tallying up the dead is probably very low on the list of priorities compared to keeping the disaster contained. But if I had to imagine… this has to have dwarfed New Orleans by an order of magnitude."

"What does that mean?'

"It means this is the single largest Underworld incursion since thousands of years before Jericho fell," Az interjected. "You would have to travel back to before the advent of written language to find something similar to this."

Alain paused, then turned to him in surprise. "...That bad?"

Az nodded solemnly. "Quite frankly, the only reason this was stopped was because your weapons have improved to the point where the Underworld does not yet have a suitable answer for them… and, moreover, because several brave men sacrificed their lives, if not their very souls, to return Leviathan to his prison."

Alain fell silent at that information. Slowly, he took one final drag, reducing his cigarette down to little more than a stub, which he then threw onto the floor of the train car and ground beneath the heel of his boot.

"You might hate me for saying this, but I guess you're proud of us," Alain said softly. "Humanity as a whole, I mean, because we have weapons that hell itself isn't prepared for."

"Quite frankly, I wish there had never been a need for them," Az lamented. "I wish I had never spread the knowledge of how to make war among your people. But you know this already."

"Yeah, I do. For what little it may be worth, it means a lot that you've turned your back on your former masters."

Az said nothing, instead crossing his arms. Alain let out a tired sigh, then reached for another cigarette, only for Sable to clamp her hand around his wrist. Her superhuman strength making him wince briefly.

"Please don't," she said.

Alain stared at her for a moment. "Hate to say it, but it's either the cigarette or the bottle, and I don't see any liquor around here. Probably a good thing, too – I'd be unrecognizable by this point if I'd had access to a bottle of whiskey after waking up."

Sable grimaced, but didn't let go of his hand. Alain considered glaring at her, only to think better of it. Reluctantly, he let out a sigh, then pulled his hand out of his pocket.

The rest of the train ride continued on in complete silence. It lasted another hour or so before the train finally came to a screeching halt at the station. It was a small mercy when it eventually did, though that was soon tempered by Colonel Stone appearing in the hallway next to their train compartment.

"You four all set?" he asked.

Alain was surprised. "You want us to go now?'

"Unfortunately, time is not on our side. Congress wants a debrief, and they want it yesterday, to say the least." Stone motioned with his head for them to follow after him. "Come with me. My men and I will escort you there."

None of them bothered to ask whether or not an escort was truly necessary. Stone turned and began to walk off, and they all followed after him. Alain wasn't sure what was about to happen, but he knew one thing.

There was going to be hell to pay. That much, he was sure of.