#d8plot

With the dinner party in utter shambles, you feared the door may never open for you. But once you'd survived whatever length of time this was meant to last, you found the handle giving way.

And none too soon. Several Denizens' bodies littered the floor, but the rest weren't exactly happy with you. If anyone was going to tend to Abel, it wouldn't be here. It likely wouldn't be on the platform over the wasteland rushing below, either. Nor the bridge—

Which was rescinding, anyway. The handrails folded over and the bridge tucked away into the next car... What were you to do? Jump? Impossible. But Neko-Neko seemed more curious than perturbed, so presumably this didn't wreck their killing game plans.

In a flash, another car, rolling along the top of the ones ahead, lowered into the gap. Another bridge extended, the handrails snapping back into place as if nothing had happened.

"Well, that doesn't happen every day! How exciting!"

"Yeah, it's not that special. Get going."

You had little choice but to obey.

Though one look inside the next set of doors was enough to make several of you have second thoughts, there was no turning back. And if you made some attempt to go over or around the whole car, you were sure to fail, before or after suffering horrible injury—which would only make going inside all the more necessary.

So you stepped inside, begrudgingly or otherwise. You only had a moment to observe the half-curtained-off hospital beds, the IV stands, the bustling sets of scrubs, before something felt... wrong. With you. Was the sheer atmosphere just making you feel unwell? Or...

A pair of spectacles with cartoonish eyes behind them swooped over, ducking and bobbing as if to scrutinize all of you. "Oh dear, oh dear," came a mutter, though no mouth suddenly appeared to give it. "All right, if you could all wait here for just a moment, we'll have your rooms ready momentarily."

It was a nice idea, to actually get a room to yourself for once... but given the place (and the thrumming in your head), it was hard to be too excited. At least Abel could be seen to?

Whether you followed instructions exactly or not, you eventually found yourself guided to one of the hospital beds (they called this a room?). With a promise that a nurse would be in to see you soon, the pair of glasses somehow pulled the separating curtains shut to leave you alone. A draft stirred, but despite the apparent window you couldn't see anything outside but light. Presumably it was enough for the little plastic-potted ivy in the sill, but it did nothing to detract from the stuffy, sterile air of the place. Did you really need to just sit here? Surely it was wiser to at least figure out where the exit door was.

But you were so tired...

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Finally you managed to fill the recess with mirror pieces, and the door opened. Despite your exhaustion, there wasn't much hesitation to move on.

There could have been another collapse, after all.

You next stepped into a sunlit room swirling with dust motes, an ornate wooden door set into each of its ten short walls, not counting the single hallway stretching into darkness. Aside from dated but lush green carpet, there was nothing else to shed light on the situation but a dusty tome resting on a podium. The cover was far more ornamental than descriptive, but flipping through the thin leaves showed you a plethora of mind-numbingly worded advice on dinner etiquette and dancing.

That certainly seemed an ill omen for most of you, and there was very little time to make sense of the instructions before the doors flew open in unison. Amorphous shapes, only visible from the way they distorted the details behind them, swept out into the room, making a number of concerned and pitying noises as they inspected the group as a whole. They were more prone to murmurs than anything, but they spoke in full agreement on one point:

"This simply won't do."

Whether you cooperated or not, you were swiftly pushed through one of the doors and locked in. The space seemed a bit cramped for a room, but it was luxurious for a simple changing stall. You felt a few odd prods and pokes as your measurements were taken with invisible tapes, then the door opened and shut before you could possibly slip through. After a few moments of not being entirely sure whether your assigned Denizen had left or not, they surged back inside with fine formalwear draped in their hands(?). While it at least wouldn't be any gendered clothing you were uncomfortable with, the formality level was much higher than most of you were used to. Did you have to?

The Denizen hung the clothes as needed but didn't leave the room. Though you only had the haziest sense of where their eyes might be, you could still somehow feel them boring into you with earnest.

"You must do everything you can to hide your identity here—dress nicely, speak courteously, step lightly, blend in. The Denizens here have been hurt badly by Passengers before and will broker no mercy if they realize that's what you are. Bodily, they aren't all so different from you, but the eyes..."

They retrieved an ornate masquerade mask from the formalwear and presented it to you.

"This will disguise you perfectly as long as you wear it. Value it with your life. I'm only able to provide one, so if anything should happen to threaten it... Please, be careful."

So... On threat of your life, you had to dress up fancy, wear a mask, and survive some kind of upper crust social event without revealing you didn't belong here? 

All of you?

Oh dear.

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The occasional clang still echoed down the tunnels as you wearily searched for another vein of "ore". How were you even supposed to figure out the best locations, logically? This was not, you were pretty darn sure, how mirrors were actually made in the real world.

All you could do was investigate the walls and conserve whatever energy you could afford to. The lack of food was really wearing on you now. But with the lot of you split up among the different tunnels, surely someone would find what you needed. Whether it was someone in condition to mine it out, well. One step at a time.

Clang, drip, your own tired footsteps... Every sound seemed to wear you down further.

At least, until the cacophony of falling rocks. When you took from nature, you should not have been surprised when it decided to take something back.

Jolted more awake, it still took you a panicked second to determine it wasn't happening around you. But was it coming this way? Had you heard a yell, or was it just someone's startled reaction? No matter your rationale, you found yourself hurrying back to the mine's center chamber. Between you and the others that had gathered, it didn't take long for someone to point out the clattering of rocks down another tunnel. You followed, though you weren't sure you wanted to go too far in here...

“Oh, f-ck–!”

Though one soul had ventured too far. Maybe by chance. Maybe by fate. Maybe by some other design, Viper had made her way in too deep. The rocks rushed to meet her, but some other force, moving faster than you could think, had made its move first, pushing her harshly. She was sent flying, away from danger. Away from the rocks that wished to get up close and personal. She let out a yelp as she skidded across rock, hitting the floor hard. Whether you thought the sight of her on the ground was karmic, or amusing, or just relieving, the rocks tumbled down, down, down… away from her.

Wide-eyed and certainly terrified, she could only watch as the rocks fell. As the place where she had stood just moments earlier was crushed by the falling boulders. If it had just been a moment later...

Splinters of a supporting frame lay scattered among the dislodged rock. A large silvery gleam made you think someone had at least struck it rich here before the collapse—until you realized what it actually was.

Or who it actually was.

You stepped into darkness. Something dripped in the distance, and your footfalls echoed far away. Your eyes couldn't adjust before one of you stumbled into something solid with a wooden thunk. Between that and the tracks that threatened to trip you up, you finally started to piece together your newest location.

Neko-Neko climbed inside the large minecart and gestured for you to join them in some mockery of a lucky cat. Whether you cooperated right away or only after a slow attempt to cross the rocky ground on foot, you all managed to fit in the vehicle just as it started to pick up speed.

Lanterns passed along the tunnel walls, getting a little less dingy as you went in further. This area felt abandoned, though, with only dull, stripped rock passing you by. But eventually the cart slowed and stopped in a slightly more open cavern. The ceilings were low enough to feel uncomfortable, but even the tallest of you could exit the cart without ducking. A few tunnels split off from here, most aglow with lantern light, but the cart tracks went no further. Up ahead you could just barely see light glinting off the occasional chip of something silvery in the walls.

The exit door was in plain sight in this chamber, but of course it wasn't opening yet. A shallow recess stretched some ways in front of it, but there were no labels. No guides other than Neko-Neko, whose eye glowed all the more ominously in this place. But considering the environment and the mining equipment available, maybe you wouldn't have to ask them for advice. At least the way to start the "puzzle" in this car was clear enough, if exhausting to even think about.

And from there... you supposed you'd just have to see.

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Whether it was harder to find a book that called to you or run from it, you all eventually managed to complete your task. Where the shelves had spun off into infinity before, a familiar red door appeared in one of the aisles. Word spread quickly, and soon you'd all assembled before it. Time to move on, as always.

The handle turned without resistance, and the churning wasteland stretched out before you. Another bridge, another car ahead. Maybe that one would give you some way to end Neko-Neko's game. Was that what you were hoping for? Were you hoping for much of anything, at this point?

Either way, you found yourself passing through without hindrance, the air outside the Train a little warmer on your face. 

At least, most of you.

With a faint sound only vaguely reminiscent of slamming into a wall, Jack marched straight into something that bounced him and only him back into the library. He stumbled but stayed on his feet and tried again, a little faster—but the result was the same.

Perhaps it’s Viper’s guilt at burning the checkout register, perhaps it’s something else entirely, but hearing Jac—no, Jagal, trying his hardest to take the books, she knew she had to try and do something. Maybe she didn't know why keeping these books was so important to him—but she could hazard a guess, after they’d snooped so much into his life. His mother, his father, his sister especially… it had to be hard for him. To be forced to think about them again. And once again, she’d messed up someone’s chance at healing. 

“Hey—” He bounced back from the door, and she reached forward, just lightly gripping onto his bag. “Jagal—” Maybe he’d listen if she talked to him. The true him, not… Jack. Worm her way in there, she knew it could go very badly. Very, very badly. But equally, she wanted him to understand that she wasn’t out to hurt him. Not at this stage.

Jack warily tugged his bag out of Viper's grip. How did she know his name? Had she—

"...."

No. Absolutely not. It must've just come up somewhere else, at some point. Not like it was his most tightly-guarded secret.

“I don’t think they’ll let ya take ‘em wit’ ya—I-I can ask. But ya prob ain’t gonna be able t’.”

Jimithy stepped up, as unamused as ever.

"Already told both of you, you can't check out a book that doesn't have a register. A real one."

"And you can't leave with a book you haven't checked out. Put it back." He grimaced. "Or on a return cart, fine. But you're not leaving with that. Don't waste any more of our time."

Viper picked at a thread on the end of her glove. “It’s… prob best ya leave ‘em here anyway. I dunno if ya’d want ‘em ta get hurt… damaged…’n all.” Viper raised her gaze to him—having tilted it to the floor. “Look, I’unno if I’ll get anywhere. An’ I know ya gonna try’n act like ya rejectin’ every bit’a niceness. But I wanna know ya. An’ I don’t care how much ya try’n stop me.”

Tag-teamed, huh? It was true, Jack didn't have any registers, and the train out there couldn't be safe for a book unless he never tried to open it. Would being damaged hurt them? Surely not, if they were already dead, but...

"....."

"Fine."

He withdrew a slim volume from under his hoodie and set it gently on the floor. Not even the return cart, huh.

"Not like I'm much 'f a reader, anyway."

Somehow you made it through the literal daycare with less violence than usual. In the end, it was more bittersweet than you expected to leave your sleeping flourchild behind, even though Sister had assured you this was the right path. With the exit door unlocked, it was hard to argue otherwise.

Perhaps you could have stayed with her, even if your flourchild would vanish. It was apparently viable, after all, for a Passenger to simply stay in one spot, and there was food and water... But Sister had no intention of going home. If you did, then following in her footsteps couldn't have been wise.

So you followed Neko-Neko's instead, across the next bridge and to yet another car, identical to all the rest on the outside.

After the rushing air and clanking wheels, the sudden quiet stillness made your skin prickle. The air smelled faintly of dust and parchment, and the slightest chill gripped your shoulders. Rows of polished wooden shelves from floor to ceiling stretched away farther than you could see the end of—if there was any end. Every shelf was well-stocked with books of all styles pressed neatly side by side. 

Closer to where you entered, a curved wooden counter with an "INFORMATION" sign hanging overhead separated you from a goatboy of some kind. Eyeing your group, he managed to look utterly bored and judgmental at the same time.

"Great. You look like you won't make any noise."

"We'll all try to be quiet...!"

"We make no promises."

The goatboy's lip curled even further.

"Right. Well. Welcome or something. You're in a library. Go read a book."

He gestured at himself—"Jimithy—" at the doorway behind him—"Timothy. We're here if you need us."

"......."

"Don't need us. Thanks."

He leaned back in his seat—one of the only ones this place seemed to have—and put in some earbuds. Ah. Very helpful.

But at least this place didn't seem particularly dangerous, in and of itself? Though it didn't present a clear exit, either. Hmm.

Time to read a book, you guessed.

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With the claustrophobia of the flower shop and the many things it brought up that you didn’t want to talk about, moving onto the next car seemed like a swell idea. It was more naturally peaceful here, perhaps, but what difference did that make with this group, anyway?

Whether you kept any flowery souvenirs or not, you crossed along the bridge to the next door.

Inside was a more normal-looking, if quite colorful, setup. In one corner a clean cluster of elementary school desks with chairs waited, rows and rows of bright cubbies behind them with various supplies. More eye-catching was the large play area with all manner of slides and swings and the like atop a colorful patchwork of bright foamy tiles.

And unlike some of the cars that felt lively but empty, quite a few Denizens seemed to be running about. A collection of children's toys on the larger side seemed to be doing their best to entertain and otherwise corral a number of... What exactly? They certainly chittered and ran and looked like young children at the barest glance. But upon further examination, there was an origami-like quality to them—or maybe more like... flour bags?

"Oh, this looks like such a fun car, don't you think? Or if you don't, you know the easiest way to get out!"

"Just remember, killing a Denizen doesn't count for our game!"

Neko-Neko, the only solid-metal-spiky sort of thing in sight, strolled over to the desks, seeming to contemplate their value as a scratching post. They didn't elaborate on why they thought the distinction was necessary here. Did they really expect you to kill... toys and children? Or how could you mistake any of those as one of your group "eligible" for killing?

"...What is this about killing?" A voice chimes in from another corner of the car. For all of its unfamiliar warmth, it seems hauntingly familiar.

You turn in the direction of the voice, only to be greeted by a sight that sends a chill down your spine and a burst of cold through your blood.

Plart's mall was somehow even more chaotic than you'd anticipated—but everyone survived. Not everyone was thriving, certainly, but eventually you'd all stolen or caught what or whom you needed.

As if ready to get you all off his turf, Plart offered his congratulations tersely and guided you back to the Segway station to dismount for the last time. Phew. You could certainly hope the next car wouldn't pit you against each other so much—but you were almost certain you wouldn't have to wrestle those things again.

But you did still have to follow Neko-Neko, out onto the rushing wasteland and across to the next car. It was hard to feel much of anything but trepidation at this point, but maybe, maybe, a more helpful Denizen would be here.

You stepped into what must have been the smallest car yet, though that may have been saying fairly little. This time you were constrained to some kind of little florist shop with pleasant lighting. Tasteful floral arrangements and bonsai took up most of one wall, while another held looser flowers—were some of those translucent? Par for the course, perhaps, but still odd enough to notice.

Also a little odd was the lack of Denizens greeting you. Would anyone tell you how to get the far door to unlock? Were you supposed to depend on Neko-Neko for that? With your luck, they'd just tell you to kill somebody to see if it might work. Then again, after Comedy's claims, maybe you didn't want to trust every native Denizen wholeheartedly, either...

Ten outstanding bouquets had odd little hand-painted pictograph tags hanging from their vases. Each had a lovely-looking unique combination of flowers centered on multicolored roses, but something seemed to be missing.

As you finally passed through to the end of the store, you found the car wasn't quite as small as it had seemed. A zen garden spread out before you with trees, stones, a curved bridge, sand, and a few benches. Though peaceful, all of it was oddly drained of color. You weren't sure it needed fixing, per se, but it was still noticeable.

A flitter tickled the edge of your vision. You turned to look, but by then the only sign of... whatever that had been was a quiver in some of the flower shop's petals.

Hmm. Maybe the helpful Denizens weren't missing after all.

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