[2:07pm]

Vincent sat towards the back of the last train car. He wore slightly ripped jeans and a loose, black sweatshirt, with the hood pulled over his head. In front of his eyes were sunglasses that were almost too dark to see through. Everything about him seemed to blend in nicely, especially his relaxed demeanor. He was leaning back in his seat, his hands were in his pocket, and his head was slightly lulled to the side.

Even though his physicality was lax, his mind was not. He was already in a state of minimal resonance and he could perceive all of the waves around him. The mental waves of the other passengers and the natural resonance of the train mixed together, making it hard, at times, to focus on a single source. If he pushed himself too hard to sift through the mess of waves, he would risk mental fatigue, and so, he decided to just use his eyes to look for anything out of the ordinary.

As his eyes made their way around the car, he glanced at a disguised Siegella. She was wearing baggy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt. If he didn’t know who she was, Vincent wouldn’t have seen her as anything but another passenger. Even her mental waves seemed natural and uncontrolled.

Glancing past her, Vincent couldn't help but look out the window. He saw that the train was currently in between two rows of buildings. Instead of the lush greenery he was expecting, there was nothing but dull grey on the other side of the windows.

Oh well, he thought, I just wanted something to look at.

He leaned his head further back and just stared at the ceiling. He listened to the monotonous sound of the train’s wheels grinding over rails, constantly thumping and squealing. It almost became therapeutic for him, but unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to fall asleep. He had a mission to do. And so, with a sigh, he began to look around the car again.

“Come in, Libra. Come in Libra,” Vincent heard inside his ears. It was the voice of Archard. He subtly pressed his hand up against the hidden earbud in his left ear. “We are approximately ten minutes from A-Station. Any updates?”

Vincent watched Siegella slowly move her hand in front of her mouth. While he didn’t hear what she said out loud, he heard her speak through the earbud system.

“Nothing yet,” she said. “Haunlich is still looking.”

“Understood,” Archard replied.

There was silence. Vincent just sat in that silence, bored. His toes started to tap, his hands began to fidget, and he couldn’t sit still any longer. He had been on that train for over ten minutes, and he didn’t like the emotional combination of stress and boredom. He was being pulled in two different directions: he either got up or continued to do his job.

Eventually, one side won.

He casually stood up and started to walk towards the door to the other train car. He figured that nothing bad would happen if he just walked there and back. After all, he saw tons of people do it. Just as the door opened up, he bumped into another person who was coming from the other direction. This person was a black man who wore a tan, leather jacket, with the zipper undone. He had a brown beanie on his head, with his thick, dreaded hair tumbling out of it.

“Oh, sorry,” Vincent said, pushing past him.

“It’s alright,” the man replied, walking right past him.

Just then, Vincent felt an intent that rose above the rest of the middling waves in the car. He felt an intent to kill. He froze in place for a moment. With eyes wide, he spun around and saw exactly what he feared. He watched that same man raise a gun and point it directly at Siegella.

“No!” Vincent yelled.

***

[2:09pm]

Fang Nola was in the passenger car closest to the locomotive. They were leaning against one of the poles, contemplating to themselves.

Something just isn’t right… they thought.

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There was something on the tip of their mind’s tongue that they just couldn’t grasp. The thing that first sent them down this mental rabbit hole was when they first thought about the timing of everything. They didn’t quite understand what Aries would stand to gain from such an act, especially at this point. Sure, destroying the train and train tracks would hinder some of Libra’s material transportation, but those are completely separate trains.

What does killing innocent lives gain for them, except for more hatred?

An uproar suddenly snapped Fang out of their trance. Looking in the direction of the noise, they saw dozens of passengers running from the previous train cars in a panic. Without hesitation, Fang began to resonate. They extended their waves outwards towards the oncoming crowd, trying to find the reason for the madness.

Fear, panic, death—those were all common words that emanated out of those desperate passengers. However, one word above all else stuck out to Fang. Bomb. The source of all those emotions, at least in the minds of the people, was a bomb.

Instantly, Fang ran through the car they were in, pushing past all the confused and murmuring onlookers. They dashed into the next car, where they came in contact with the fast-moving crowd, heading in the other direction. It was like trying to push through a current of people trying to drag you along with them. However, Fang was agile and tough, and managed to force their way through the crowd.

They arrived in the next train car. While there were still some sprinting passengers, there were also some that were stunned still. Most were shaking as if an earthquake was ripping through the train. Others sat on the floor, screaming and staring at the next car over. When Fang followed their eyes, they saw what seemed like a desolate car… except for one individual.

“Of course,” Fang said to themselves.

Resolutely, Fang walked around the immobile people and through the doors to the next train car. As the doors closed behind them, the lone figure turned to face Fang. This figure was a tall human, non-binary but more masculine presenting. They had platinum-blonde, almost white hair, and clean-shaven face. They wore a deep, navy-blue suit with matching pants. All along the trim was a metallic-silver lining that made its way all around the attire. Everything about this person seemed prim and proper. Even the dirt smudges and the torn fabric seemed almost intentional.

This figure turned, gave Fang a look of recognition, and said, “Ah, Fang, I thought I sensed you aboard. Still, I can’t help but feel surprised—this is a new low for you.”

“John,” Fang replied, their teeth clenched, “you traitorous bastard.”

John just chuckled to themselves. “I see he’s still got you wrapped around his finger. That’s a shame.”

Fang took a step forward. “And I see that you still dye your hair in shame.”

John’s expression sank. “That’s because I don’t want to be anything like you. I want to have a free mind, not one that’s brainwashed by that maniac.”

“He’s no maniac,” Fang countered. They started to resonate more, letting their mental waves free. They then unleashed them in John’s direction. “He has a vision for the future. He wants to make a world where people can finally be free, and I’m going to make sure that happens.”

Mass amounts of mental waves burst out of John, clashing with the oncoming storm from Fang. Both of their resonating minds met in the middle, causing a maelstrom of cognitive dissonance. The collision was so great, that even some of the nearby windows shattered. The manifestation of their will and cerebral fortitude was evenly matched.

“You’re willing to do anything for that, then?” John asked. “Are you willing to throw these new friends of yours away? Are you willing to do to them what you did to me?”

“I…” Fang hesitated. Their mind bounced between two extremes, relentlessly. As the pain from those polar parts of themself became too much to bear, Fang screamed. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You abandoned us!”

Taking a commanding step forward, pushing through the mental waves like nothing, John said, “Poor, little Fang. It seems you still can’t think for yourself.” They then snapped and unleashed a torrent of waves that shattered any of the comparably small ones that were coming out of Fang. “You still spout his words—you’re nothing more than a mouthpiece.”

Fang, who was now grabbing one of the passenger poles for support, looked up at John with wicked eyes. “I am my own person.” They then stood tall again. “And I’m going to defeat you.”

With a cynical laugh, John replied, “Even before we could resonate, that was something you could never do.” They took another step forward. “Tell me, Fang, were you the one who taught Archard our secret?”

“So? Weren’t you the one who taught Silo?”

“Indeed,” John confirmed, “but I gave my power to the oppressed. You, however, continue to support the oppressors. You only help those already on top.” They laughed. “Like father, like child.”

“Shut up!”

Fang summoned the Electronic Eyes and hit them together. Just like their mind, those two disks began to violently vibrate. Unlike most times when they’ve used this ability, they weren’t going to hold back.

“Predictable, as always,” John mocked.

“You’re dead!” Fang yelled.

Fang then unleashed their destructive, shaking powers. Harsh vibrations shot out of the Electronic Eyes, tearing through all of the seats in the car and sundering part of the floor, leaving gaps where the moving ground could be seen. Most of the train car was ravaged, with every window now being eviscerated.

As Fang looked around, they noticed that John was no longer in front of them. Before they could even begin to see them, they felt John’s unbearably familiar presence behind them. As Fang spun around, they came face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol.

“Checkmate,” said John.

BANG!