Sally whistled as she skipped back to the car with her crew. Now a few ounces lighter and refreshed, she was content to lay back and get some reading done.

  “Where’s Paracelsus?” She asked, “Lyra?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gru’lya said, panicking because she didn’t know how to respond, “He was here one second, then someone showed up, and then they were gone.”

  “I don’t think that’s good.” Sally verbalized her thoughts, scratching her chin. “Wait, what? That’s really not good!” Once she caught up to her senses, she grabbed Lonceré by the shoulders, shaking him violently, “Wake up, cook!”

  “Huh, wha -?” Said cook asked, his eyes half lidded and drool running from the corner of his lips, “What’s happening?”

  “Paracelsus is missing.” Sally shouted, pointing to the vacancy in his seat, “I think so, at least. He would’ve said something right?”

  “Ugh, you’re probably right.” Lonceré pulled his face in frustration, “How is he always getting into trouble?” He clapped his hands, waking up the rest of the crew, “Everyone, Parace is gone. He didn’t say anything, so I can only assume he’s been nabbed… again.”

  “You’re kidding.” Serpacinno groaned, rolling her shoulders and slapping herself awake, “Shit, any idea where he could’ve gone?”

  “Well this is the rear-most car,” Sally speculated, “And the train hasn’t stopped since I got up, so… He has to have been taken forward.”

  “Alright then.” Serpacinno said. She’d been given some lessons on commanding a crew from Paracelsus during their various times together, and she was of a mind to put them to use now, “Sally, Gru’lya, Federico, and Gareland, you four stay behind. We can’t spend our time pushing her around, and for all we know whoever took Parace is gonna come for us next.”

  “What about us?” Tariq asked, “Are we all going forward?”

  “Yes we are, Tariq.” She replied, “I want you to remain invisible until I say otherwise. Lonceré, you and I are leading the charge. Understood?”

  “Aye, ma’am.” The cook said. It was like he was actually serving again.

  —

  “Jeez, Parace.” Fra said. The two of them backed into each other, “You always manage to find yourself in some shit, don’t you?”

  “Up to my elbows.” Paracelsus replied. He fashioned himself his own weapon, what appeared to be a pistol, with four cylinders housed in a square, four-by-four formation, “If we can go back, towards the stern, we’ll be able to meet up with my crew.” Before anyone else could climb up, he leaned down and touched the roof of the car, using his gift to push the metal back into place.

  “Rah!” Elio shouted, and brought his own radiant lance back over his shoulder. He thrust it forward, and the radiant, swirling energy around it gave off a great heat and conflagration, lingering in the air for a few seconds after he pulled the spear back itself, having missed his strike.

  Now that he got a better look at him, Paracelsus noticed something odd; for starters, he was dressed in white robes with orange trim (although, given what little information he knew about some of the more brawny types the Three Points hired, it wasn’t all that strange - they were known to be strong, eccentric personalities), but the weirder part was his skin. He was tan, as expected, but at points he had… cracks… or fissures in his flesh. They appeared almost as though they were scars, but they swirled just under the surface with that same radiant energy.

  To test his theory, he shot the spear-bearer with his little pepperbox, landing square in the kneecap. Elio, as expected, fell to his other knee for but a moment, standing back up as the bones and ligaments and muscle reformed. But, curiously, the source of his vitality seemed to be originating in that thin red thread that connected the two of them.

  “Fra!” He shouted, dodging another stab aimed at his head, “Try to cut the cord!”

  He turned a small bit of his shirt into a knife, and dove over to the sinew, grasping it with one hand as he brought the knife over with the other. As soon as he did though, he immediately regretted it - a searing pain ran through his hand, travelling up his arm and through into his body, causing him to start wailing on the floor.

  “Parace!” They shouted, backing up to their friend. Hitherto this point, Luna (whose flesh was marred by gray, rotting flesh in the same way her brother’s was) was launching projectiles at the four-armed one. Misty, purplish spear-heads flew through the air, screaming like metal under sheer strain before they dissipated, leaving an icy pocket of air in their wake. Now, under assault from both brother and sister, Fra was having a substantially harder time. Already it was hard enough to aim at someone jumping around while also dodging their attacks, but two of them?

  “Gah!” They shouted, getting tagged in the back by Elio’s spear. Afterwards, they fell on their front, clutching the wound, “Parace, get up!”

  Then, the siblings walked over to them. Now, they were looming over the two on the ground, spears aloft and ready to end it. Paracelsus, still somewhat delusional from the pain, managed to regain his faculties, using his knife to instead create a club and whack the solar sibling on his knee. Now that all the attention was on him: he quickly sprang to his feet, and kicked Elio in the shoulder, knocking him off the train-car.

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  “Elio!” Luna shouted. She forewent any caution, getting down to hold onto the sinew and start pulling her brother back up.

  “Let’s go!” Paracelsus pulled Fra to their feet, and continued to hold their hand as the two of them went back on the train.

  “Will they trust me?” Fra bounced up, reaching behind them as their hat flew off. They adjusted it and put it back on, “Do they have any idea who I am?”

  “I may have - Woah!” He ducked under a blast from Luna, the sibling pair now chasing them, “Told them about you. They’re good people, you’ll like them.”

  —

  “Wait,” Serpaccino said, putting her hand up, “I think they’re in the next car. Tariq, get on the other side of them.”

  Tariq nodded. He cloaked himself, then checked the door handle. Locked, but a swift kick broke it open. It seemed Serpacinno was right, there was a tough-looking bunch all discussing something (and all too enamored in said discussion to notice him entering). So, he crept over to the other door, waiting on the other side.

  “When do we go in?” Lonceré asked, in a hushed tone.

  “Just give it a few more seconds.” Serpacinno said, counting down on her fingers, “Now!”

  They both stormed the door on her command. Lonceré quickly formed a double, and the both of them fired, taking down one of the revolutionaries inside.

  “Who the fuck are you?” One of the rank and file revolutionaries asked, their arm enlarging, coiled in black energy.

  Before he could let his fist fly, Tariq uncloaked behind him, crossbow held aloft, and said “Don’t even try it.”

  “Tariq!” Serpacinno shouted, deflecting a blade thrown at her head, “Fucking shoot him!”

  Said man hesitated for a moment. He readied the bow to fire, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Every time he tried, he found himself back in the Cartesian sewers. Evidently, he hesitated far too much, and the person with the black fist took their chance, smacking him away and making him hit his head on a seat.

  Serpacinno allowed one of their swords to slide off hers, knocking her assailant’s arm away and running them through the shoulder. Lonceré and his double, meanwhile, managed to knock down a second, kicking them on either side of their head.

  Then, bang! The double was slain, and subsequently vanished into a puff of smoke. Before he could react, however, Anita came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

  “That’s it…” She whispered, “Let go.”

  As her words continued, he felt himself losing his grip on his consciousness. Slowly but surely, he was becoming drowsier and drowsier until, now having downed two more foes, Serpacinno ran over and seized Anita by the hair. Taking no regard for her safety, she let out a jet of fiery hot breath, burning the woman down.

  “Oh, hell.” She wheezed, trying to catch her breath on one of the seats, “A few got away. Can you go and check on Tariq? I need a second.”

  —

  “Do you hear that?” Federico asked, pointing upward.

  “Like tapping or something?” Sally asked, “Yeah, I hear it.”

  Then, with no warning, Paracelsus and… some strange lanky individual fell through the roof with a Woah! and landed on their asses. “No time to explain,” The captain said, groaning and pointing to the ceiling, “Two enemies in - Where are the others?”

  Before anyone could answer, Elio jumped first, aiming his spear straight down. He missed, but it ended up carving through the floor of the train anyway. Before Luna could join him, he stabbed forward, and the radiance of his spear collided with Federico.

  “You alright?” Paracelsus asked. He dare not fire a gun in such a crowded room, especially when said crowd was his own crew, “You don’t look worse for wear.”

  “I feel fine, actually.” Federico replied, “A bit shaken up, but it just felt like a strong, concentrated burst of sunlight.”

  “I think that’s exactly what it is.” Paracelsus replied, “Sally, I think it would be best if you two were to get out of here.”

  “I don’t need to be convinced.” She said, pushing Gru’lya into the next car.

  “Alright, Rico,” Paracelsus said, “We’re leaving the sunnier of the two to you, alright?”

  “I’ll try my best, captain!” He replied, pulling himself backward with his vines to avoid a strike to his gut.

  He took another step back, and another, before his back hit the wall. He couldn’t afford to be on the defensive, but at the same time, he wasn’t exactly a trained fighter. So, he wildly allowed his vines to sprout, rushing towards Elio and blotting out his radiance. Before allowing any time to react, he lashed out, striking and clubbing his foe with the vines.

  Too bad for him, eventually Elio did mow his way through, his sunfire consuming the plants’ flesh and burning a way through. Worse still, he had a smile on his face like he lived for this type of combat. His next thrust came within an inch of goring Federico in the heart, barely stopped by said man’s vines.

  “Oh, shit!” He said, realizing how close he came to meeting his maker. He didn’t get much time to ponder it, as the spear’s length became entirely engulfed in sunfire, burning his vines to ash.

  Still, some decent damage was done. Elio was hurt - more and more cracks were forming; and more to the point, his body was starting to overflow with energy - due to exertion or laceration, no one could say, but regardless he was building up to something.

  “Any ideas?” Fra asked, meanwhile, to Paracelsus.

  “Well, what do we know?” He dodged a blast narrowly, using a sword in a sloppy imitation of his lover, “They heal each other with that connection thing, that burns like hell, by the way. But the healing seems imperfect somehow, right?”

  At this point the walls were thoroughly damaged, half-missing and letting in the rushing of wind. The lack of a ceiling didn’t help matters, either. And that moment is when everything went to shit - Fra tripped running backwards, and in rolling out of the way to avoid being lanced, fell off the damaged side of the train, just barely catching themselves on the ledge.

  “No, you don’t!” Paracelsus said. Luna ran over, about to stomp Fra’s fingers and force them to fall. Luckily for them, Paracelsus got a great strike on her, running her through with a sword, which, unsurprisingly, healed right over.

  “I’ll grab them!” Federico shouted. He had just a moment to breathe, but he used a vine to grab the doctor, pulling them back into himself. He underestimated the momentum such a thing would impart, however, and the two of them went tumbling backwards, falling into the adjacent car and on their asses.

  “Oh, no -” Paracelsus said. He observed the impending doom he found himself subject to; either side of him had someone charging him down, spear held forward, and froze. Attacking either would mean forsaking defending against the other, and that was something he just couldn’t afford. “Oh, no no, no!”

  But, as he braced himself for the inevitable as best he could, trying to make peace with any deity that would hear him, the moment never came.

  “Phillipus…” A gruff, older man said. He was clearly straining, but the reason for it wasn’t obvious until one looked closer. The man was using his own shadow to hold back both of the siblings’, and clearly was about to lose that battle, “Get a hold of yourself, Phillipus!”