Train Job, Part 1

It was a train job, which he hated because it complicates things. Anytime you take an intricate, delicate task and put it in a rickety box hurtling across the countryside at fifty clicks an hour, something goes wrong. Something you wouldn't expect. Something that would have been no issue, if you'd just kept your feet planted on the dirt like any decent son of the Goddess. But alas no, this was no normal job.

It was a train job.

Ser Gilbert of Neviche sighed, and shuffled his newspaper. He moved to the next page, eyes scanning the compartment for something, anything. Any sign of trouble, any uncomfortable passengers, an errant bead of sweat on a traveller's brow.

He could see Harcourt animatedly chatting up a neighbouring passenger at the other end of the car. Technically in position, but as usual his attention had wandered from the task at hand. Typical.

Page three of the paper had a story about some trouble at one of the universities, some kind of extraplanar being put down by a group of overzealous youths. He frowned. That is a job for the Diony, after all. Lazy and incompetent as they are.

It was subtle when it happened. Almost too subtle for Ser Gilbert, he noted. Two passengers, opposite sides of the car, separated by four rows casually meet eyes and nod to each other slightly. Got you.

One rises from his seat, folding his paper under his arm and retrieving a small bag from under his seat. Calmly he starts to make his way to the door at the end of the car. Gilbert presses the gem on his cuff link to alert Nora and the Warlock to be prepared, while trying to get Harcourt's attention. The target is almost to the exit by the time Harcourt turns casually from his conversation and points at the seated cohort while winking at Gilbert.

Curse his effortless skill, thinks the Mage Hunter. He throws his paper into the seat across from him and moves to calmly pursue the primary target. The far door of the car opens and shuts behind the man. Gilbert's cuff link chirps quietly to confirm Nora and the Warlock received his alert. He ups his pace to a noticeable amount, counting on Harcourt to handle the secondary target.

The door is a standard sliding train door, with a frosted glass pane on the top. Ser Gilbert takes a moment to breathe, centres himself, and throws the door open.

To come face to face with Nora, priestess of the Great Provider and his second-in-command. The instant ready position both took eases into a comfortable stand, as the confusion sets in. They both step onto the small platform separating the two cars, and Gilbert closes the door behind them. The sound of the rushing air is loud and unsettling.

"Did he pass you?" Gilbert asks, already knowing the answer.

Nora shakes her head with a glare. The two check opposite sides of the car, looking into the disappearing distance in case their target had jumped from the train. But the man dressed in black was nowhere to be seen on the horizon. The two turn to face each other once more. Gilbert frowns. Nora looks up, to the roof of the train.

Ser Gilbert of Neviche sighs, and begins resignedly climbing the ladder to the roof of the train. It was a train job.

Which complicates things.