1 - Arrival

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With a string of screeches, the heavily crowded train curved slowly and achingly to the left as your standing form swerved to the right. You felt your feet sliding across the floor. Sweat matted around your hands that tightly gripped the pole beside you, where a shady businessman and extravagant drag queen stood barely an inch away from your shoulders. Both wore grim, almost dead, expressions like the rest of the clustered train passengers.

Looking around, you sighed in relief. You were finally on the right train.

As the carriage returned to its monotonous rumbling, you stared down at the grimy floor. In the corner of your vision, you spotted a creased newspaper page that someone must have dropped. It was covered in footprints and smeared with dirt, but you were barely able to make out the title and first sentence of the front page article.


'CRIMINAL-TURNED GOOD TAKES ON PERILOUS MISSION!'

'A young man who was released early from jail, convicted of numerous murders and whose notoriety far exceeds his age, has bravely took on a challenge in order to "experience normal life again."'


Squinting, you saw the name and logo of your newspaper company and the date right below the title: 24th May. That was yesterday, considering that it was now probably 3 AM hence the 25th May - you chided yourself for not bringing your watch. Since you forgot to read yesterday's issue, you were tempted to pick up the page until you saw someone step on it, which tore apart under the pressure.

You looked back at your shoes. It had taken five station changes and countless of times asking strangers. You had your editor on speed dial and you were tempted to reassign the job to your desk partner.

Sure you were a tad bit more experienced than her; in fact, you had been a junior news reporter for two years. But there were others who were with the company for far longer and who had far braver fronts than you to tackle this assignment. Also, anyone who got the article published would get twenty times their annual salary's worth, as well as a promotion.

The tremendously large sum became less appealing when it was discovered that every other reporter given this mission either went missing or died.

Despite that, here you were - and you knew, very well, why.

The thought of your bankrupt older brother came to mind, who was now staying at your place. Who continuously worked overtime yet did the cooking and cleaning regardless of your protests. The big brother who took over as both your mother and father while your real, divorced parents thought only for themselves. The selfless brother who never forgot to put on a grin for you despite dealing with his own problems.

Before leaving the house, you remained vague about the faraway town you were assigned to and resisted his continual efforts to prod for more details. "Where exactly are you going?" and "When will you come back home?" were the most common bullets you had to dodge, in fear of the great lengths he would undoubtedly go to prevent you from taking up this mission. The mission that was the root cause of the otherwise inexplicable disappearance of dozens of journalists and other media correspondents; all of whom were passengers of the train you now stood inside.

You decided that the risk was worth it if you could bring a genuine smile to his face again. But even then, you could never truly pay him back for all the sacrifices he'd made for you.

The train jerked, pushing the passengers to the side, where you bumped into the drag queen.

"Sorry-"

"Don't talk to me. Your breath must be as bad as your taste in dress." He turned his head away dramatically and scrunched his nose.

"Dandy talk, cake face," you muttered under your breath. Though you became a bit more self-conscious as you discreetly glanced at your attire.

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