Midnight Rail

by daOtterGuy

Call of the Wild X

“T-they— Why?! What did I— How could—”

Thump.

“W-where—? The stacks? Why am I— They really did—”

Thump. Thump.

“I feel sick. Aunt Holiday? Auntie Lofty? Please, I’m scared.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I-I have— they’re… What is this? … It’s… I’m hurt. No, I can’t—”

Snap.

“W-wait, I’m not in the Haven. I’m in… I don’t want to die.”

Snap. Snap.

“N-no, please, I don’t— Help! Please, help! I-I’m hurt, I—”

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“I need to protect myself. I need to find safety. I need—”

“...”

Growl.

“...I’m here, Scootaloo. I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you.

“I’ll kill them if they try.”

---

Scootaloo trudged through the corridors, searching for the rest of her team. She was on high alert, as there was no guarantee that the other Deviant was the only one here, nor that there wasn’t a copy lurking nearby. She was feeling paranoid and nervous on her own. She hated to admit it, but this situation made her—

“London!”

Turning toward the voice, she saw the rest of the Rail appear. It took a lot to stop the flow of overwhelming emotions from bursting from her, but she did. There was no need to show weakness. Not now.

“Glad we found you,” Golding said. “We were starting to get worried.”

“Especially since we can’t keep going without you,” Verhoeven noted. “Would be pointless to traverse a Trauma without the person it belongs to.”

“Really, darling?” Shelley said.

“What I believe he meant—” Salinger glared at Verhoeven “—was that we are glad to see that you are well.”

“Yeah!” Bradbury pumped up a fist. “Now we just need to find Poe and Grahame and we’re off!”

Blood and oil. Their bodies—

“They’re dead,” Scootaloo said, her tone flat. “They protected me from the Deviant that attacked us earlier.”

“What?!” Wilde exclaimed.

“That does make things more difficult for us,” Verhoeven remarked.

“Are you truly incapable of some form of empathy?” Shelley retorted.

“Of course! I just think that being objective will help us more at this time,” Verhoeven answered.

“Oh, I’ll show you—”

“Enough,” Golding cut in. “We’re going to move onward.”

“But—!” Several members started.

“We expected this going in,” Golding continued. “They aren’t gone forever, just until after we complete the Trauma, then Leap will revive them. We keep going.”

There was a begrudging murmur of consent amongst them.

“Then let’s get back to that place.”

“You know where to go?” Scootaloo asked.

“Found the Deviant further in. A Level 2 named ‘Can You Hear the Ticking?’ We wanted to grab you and the others before we took it on.

“Let’s move out.”

---

“...I think I need to consider therapy after this,” Scootaloo remarked.

“...Might be wise,” Hinton said.

“We didn’t want to say it aloud, buuut yeah,” Wilde added. “Though, I’d think we all need it considering the qualifications we needed to even be here.”

“They might give us a group discount if we all apply together,” Shelley remarked.

“...Or have us immediately committed,” Perault muttered.

“Focus in,” Golding said. “We need everyone together to take this one down.”

Considering the previous Deviants, Scootaloo definitely believed that. The room was floor-to-ceiling clockwork covered by thick glass. Clinks and clanks echoed through the room. A familiar background symphony to Scootaloo’s ears. On the far side of the room was a corridor leading deeper into the Trauma. A thick forest of belching smoke stacks shrouded the area with a black smog.

In their way was the Deviant Golding had mentioned. A humanoid-like robot of clockwork with four arms, holding long serrated swords in the shape of clock hands. Red fluid leaked from its body and over its exposed mechanical organs, providing lubricant. A single red eye peered from its head at them, tracking their every move.

It waited, probably wanting us to make the first move. Which was unfortunate, as it made it difficult to discern what abilities it may have, even if Scootaloo was certain about what exactly this abomination was attempting to emulate.

“So, what’s the plan?” Scotoaloo asked.

“We’ll have Andersen, Bradbury, Perault and Wilde keep the Deviant distracted from up close while the rest of us chip away at it from afar,” Golding said. “Since we don’t know what it might be hiding, we’ll stay cautious and adapt as needed.”

“Best chance we got,” Scootaloo said.

“Then, leeet’s—” Bradbury charged forward, axe swung back “—go!”

Bradbury swung her axe forward, aiming for Ticking’s neck. An arm intercepted the blow as a second followed to swing at Bradbury’s neck. Andersen punched the offending arm at the joint with an uppercut, then swung at the Deviant’s chest, knocking it backward.

Perault charged in, aiming his sickle to cut through one of the arms at the shoulder. The abomination parried the blow just as Wilde leaped onto its shoulders. She raised her swords to strike through the creature’s chest.

Two arms tried to slice through her legs. She jumped off. Bradbury took another swing, the others backing up her assault.

They continued for several minutes, the rest waiting for their moment.

Ticking became unbalanced.

“Now!” Golding shouted.

The rest of the team charged in, weapons at the ready.

Screech.

Loud noises began to emanate from Ticking as sparks shot off, red fluid flowed more freely along its internal workings, and its mechanisms whirred into high gear. After a moment, new arms burst out of the back of the Deviant, all armed with weapons.

One arm thrust toward Hinton. Salinger smashed it with his hammer as Hinton fired a bullet into one of the abomination’s shoulders, causing the arm to fall off.

Another sliced at a surprised Shelley, who was protected by timely shots from Verhoeven.

Two others launched themselves at Scootaloo. Cables wrapped around the arms, pulled tight, and then away from Scootaloo. Golding held tight on one end of the whips, an anxious look on his face. Scootaloo raced forward and cut further along the limbs, letting them drop to the ground with a thud.

“Pair up and stay together!” Golding commanded.

But it was too late to recover.

More and more arms began to sprout from the Deviant’s back, increasingly overwhelming the group even as they tried to push back. Exhaustion was already taking its toll, and mistakes were being paid in flesh.

Wounds piled on. Scootaloo could feel panic begin to settle in, her heart pounding in her ears. They were in a battle of attrition and barreling toward an inevitable conclusion. For each limb they cut off, two more replaced it. The Deviant was an infinite limb factory, constantly doubling down on its numerical advantage.

They were reaching their limits. Scootaloo could see the future corpses. Her teammates spread out in pools of blood. She couldn’t lose everyone again. She couldn’t—

A gentle hand laid on her shoulder.

“Make it to the end,” Verhoeven whispered into her ear. Then louder, “Wilde, I need you to use the Queen and claim its head! That is, presuming you don’t mind going out in a blaze of glory?!”

“Oh, you sweet talker!” Wilde called back, lobbing off another of Ticking’s arms. “You know just what to say to make a lady happy! Of course!”

“Then we commence!” Verhoeven said, a manic gleam in his eyes.

Wilde backed out of close quarters. She became enshrouded by a haze of red. Her eyes took on a crimson gleam made brighter by her ruby lips and white powdered face. Lace and cloth formed a tight-fitting dress reminiscent of royalty on her figure. Her rapiers transformed into blood-stained blades engraved with flowers and gemstones.

She smiled at the Deviant. It was like a predator greeting its eventual prey.

“Off with its head!” Wilde cried out as she sliced her throat with her thumb.

A red band formed around the Deviant’s neck, pulling itself tight. The monster appeared unfazed.

Verhoeven tucked his pistols back into their holsters, pulled out a syringe from the interior of his coat, and plunged it into his neck. He grinned. The abomination thrust toward Verhoeven’s chest.

He let it.

The blades ran clean through. Blood gushed from the open wound. Verhoeven cackled.

“Ah, the wonders of pure adrenaline!” Blood trickled from his mouth as he continued to laugh. “Well-suited for purposes such as these!”

He pushed forward, feeding the weapons through his body. He moved closer and closer until he was next to the creature’s chest. Gripping the edges of a metal plate around its neck, he pulled.

Veins popped out along his neck as the Deviant plunged more swords into his body. Exertion and persistence eventually bore fruit; a loud tearing sound echoed through the room.

“Now, Wilde!” Verhoeven shouted. “Your coup de grace!”

“With pleasure!” Wilde called back.

She vanished in a red mist, then reappeared above Ticking, her swords both raised to thrust downward. She plunged them through the exposed panel. There was a shriek as metal ground against metal, then stopped.

Ticking jerked in place. Once. twice. Light enveloped the Deviant, along with Wilde and Verhoeven.

Boom.

Only streak marks remained.

The team looked at the spot in shock.

“...It appears Verhoeven figured out the meaning behind the Deviant’s name,” Hinton remarked.

Two more were dead. They were down by four members now. There was still more to this Trauma. An unknowable end that was still not in sight. She was—

“We need to keep moving.”

Scootaloo snapped out of her spiral. She turned to Golding. She was about to lay into them for his callousness, then noticed his fists were tightly clenched at his side. As the others began to argue, she looked at things from a different angle. It hurt, but it was temporary. Once they got through the Trauma, they would be back. She needed to act accordingly.

She walked toward the entrance to the forest of smoke stacks. She heard a hush come over the group. She turned around to look at the concerned faces of her team.

“You comin’?” She asked.

Reluctantly, they followed her into the woods.

Comments

[The Sleepless Beholder]

More sacrifices for the eventual victory. With all that they've faced so far, I have to wonder what horror awaits at the end.