A Gentleman's Game: Part 4 - "Have You Ever"

[ShockArcl1te]

“Some days, my soul's confined and out of mind
Sleep forever
Some days, my darkest friend is me again
Have you ever
Someday I'll try again and not pretend
This time forever
Someday I'll get it straight but not today
Have you ever”
The Offspring – Have You Ever


Tremor carefully stood upright on the roof of one of the many passenger cars following the winding track through the mountains, the forests and cliff-faces stretching out before him. The cold wind kept threatening to kick him off his feet, but his stance kept him mostly steady. Most of his joints were beginning to hurt like hell and he knew that if he lived till tomorrow, they would redouble that message. The bullet wound in his shoulder was beginning to numb from ether the pain or the blood loss, he hoped it was the first. One side of his face was coated in blood from shards of glass and his nose looked like it might be broken again. His hands arguably looked the worst, numerous cuts and scrapes from where he had used his powers to break, shatter, pulverize and slice his way through twelve armed men. He smirked slightly as he watched five guards climbing up top from the gangways between cars and for a moment their tenacity impressed him. With the bloody fight that took place in the luxury suite and spilled over into the neighboring passenger car, he figured none of them would be crazy enough to follow him up onto the roof, much less navigate the chaos of the panicking patrons climbing over one another to get to the exits. Pulling his knife, Tremor weighed each of his targets and then bolted forward.

The wind and wounds worked against him, but in vain. There was a part of Tremor that had never felt more alive and as he quickly closed the distance he found himself empowered by the very fear in their eyes. Head low, he rushed the first guard to get onto the roof. His knife sang through the cold air, the vibrations channeled through the blade turning it into a blur that sliced effortlessly through anything it touched, all the while whistling a hollow tone with every sweep. Things seemed clearer to him now, as if the world’s resolution had somehow been enhanced. As the guard fired his first shots, Tremor spun low and let his knife slash upward at an angle across the guard’s inner thigh up to his armpit, avoiding the line of fire and severing the femoral and axillary arteries in one fluid movement that carried him past his first opponent and directly to the next. The second guard was a little faster with his sidearm, but the shaking of the train, the wind and possibly the sheer terror of a maniac rushing headlong at him put off his aim just enough to send the torso shot through Tremor’s jacket instead. Without breaking pace, Tremor ducked under the guard’s arm and brought his knife up just past the tendons in the wrist and quickly across the eyes, spinning around to stab the blade into a kidney before racing forward for the remaining three guards.

Tremor couldn’t hear their screams really. He was distracted by how beautiful the world had become. Every color was so vibrant. He could make out every ruby drop in an arterial spray, sparkling in the sunlight, their patterns snatched away by the rushing wind. He could taste the grainy tartness of the woodlands rushing by and feel the open expanse of the valleys that unfolded before them. He sensed the different textures his blade past through, first cloth and skin, then muscle punctuated by the uniquely solid sensation of bone. Above it all was the pounding of his heart and the distant thought of a rhyme half remembered. It was like a song whose tune echoed faintly but the words escaped him… only this was the opposite. There was no tune, only words.

Tremor was ripped from his thoughts by the realization that someone was behind him, their laugh just barely carried above the rushing wind. He turned to see Mr. Hartshaw standing between two armed thugs in suits, weapons trained on him. Hartshaw had this smile on his face as if he was generally amused, almost proud.

“Love your work!” he shouted over the noise. Peering just over his ridiculously expensive sunglasses, the well-dressed man seemed to emote both a strange familiarity and a complete lack of fear. He motioned for his bodyguards to lower their weapons and then stepped forward. “Mind if I try? I’ve always been curious.” He yelled again. Tremor frowned slightly, something about this guy didn’t seem right. He was far too confident. He had a plan. He was unarmed and over thirty feet away. Tremor’s eyes went wide as soon as he put it together. ‘Mutant’ he thought just as an invisible fist came down on the side of his face and Tremor went reeling. It felt like getting punched by a car. Tremor wasn’t sure he had ever been hit that hard before, until the next blow came from the other side, threatening to jar his teeth loose and forcing the world to turn colors. Down on his hands and knees, Tremor suddenly felt more distant, his thoughts moving slower. The words... the words were making sense now.

‘I stand beside the holy man’

He tried to shake the cobwebs loose and focus. Was he really hit that hard? Another invisible blow, this time a kick, aimed at his side. Tremor gave a shout from the pain and fell flat again. This was beginning to piss him off. He looked up at his attacker who seemed rather disappointed. “Gotta say, I was expecting better.” He walked toward Tremor, taking off his sunglasses and absently polishing them with some felt pulled from a coat pocket. His designer shoes made a soft tapping noise against the roof that was distinct even above the roar around them, coming to a stop just a few feet away. The man smiled down at him. “Maybe next time.”

‘The monarchs fear my wrath’

An explosion from somewhere ahead caught both of their attention and Tremor prepared to use the distraction to jump up and bury his knife in Hartshaw’s chest. Suddenly the entire train heaved violently and all of the cars started to buckle and tumble off the tracks. The engine plowed into the ground and began to roll, wrenching the couplings between cars before the sheer weight and force flipped the passenger cars end over end. As the wreck took place around the bend of one of the mountain peaks, most of the cars were propelled towards the ledge while others slammed and clattered against the mountainside and one another. Then the fuel tanks ruptured and Tremor’s world was engulfed in flames. The noise must have been unreal, but Tremor was only vaguely aware of it as he was sent flying through the air. As his knife slipped away from his grasp, he felt his mind going fuzzy again. His senses razor sharp while his conscious thoughts moved like mud. He landed on one of the train car windows, his back hitting the already cracked, double pained glass. Tremor looked up to see one of the linked cars shrieking with the twisting of its frame, rising up to tower over him and then fall in his direction.

‘None can move the way I can’

His hand instantly went to the shattered glass supporting him and sent a sudden vibration that popped the window and dropped him inside just as the other car came crashing down. The two cars began to roll over one another, turning the room into a spinning mess of debris. Tremor found himself thrown around the cabin before bracing himself against the back wall of a dinning booth. He counted three ear splitting rotations as he watched another window switch between sky and ground.

‘Ever the crooked path’

On the fourth turn that saw sky, he threw all his weight into the window and channeled enough vibration that the glass completely broke free of its housing. The window burst on the ground side of the rotation, leaving Tremor in place to watch as the cars tumbled on another thirteen yards and then leapt off the edge. The pileup was now spilling over a 1,500 foot drop into the valley below. He turned just in time to see more of the line being dragged closer to the cliff. The weight of the cars that had already gone over and the incline they were on meant most of the train that was still intact would soon follow. As the burning wreckage whined and grated past him, Tremor began to notice the bloodied glass in the rear passenger cars where the frantic patrons had gathered to get away from the earlier fight, only to have ended up crowding themselves into a confined space. The wreck would have effectively turned their safe haven into a spinning death trap full of collapsing walls and hard corners. Fighting his mind’s sudden sluggishness, he tried to think of a way to get the surviving passengers out and to safety when he spotted the faint outline of a figure running across the overturned train cars. His attention snapped into focus, and while the smoke and flames obscured most of the stranger’s details, Tremor knew the sound of Hartshaw’s overly expensive shoes anywhere.

******************************************************

The man who Tremor referred to as Mr. Hartshaw was actually known as C1, but he preferred to be called ‘Bishop.’ Not because it fit the stupid code naming scheme, but because it sounded cool. Alas, they denied his request because it would create inevitable confusion with the other one they had running around. He didn’t much appreciate F1’s sense of style ether. Not that it would matter after this mission. He smiled slightly at the thought and kept running up the passenger cars towards the mountain tracks, weaving around the fires that stubbornly refused to burn out. He kept looking for a safe place to jump down, but the surrounding area was full of molten wreckage and the only way out looked to be ironically close to where the derailing started in the first place. The heat from the fires was getting to him and he was fairly sure that explosion had knocked some of his fillings out. His face was bruised all over, with slight burns on the side that didn’t turn away from the flames in time. The suit was obviously ruined and another would cost more than most field agents make in three months, but it would be worth it if he could just get his message to King. In all the time he had worked for E1, he had never known a Queen to have violated his orders. Still, no one else in the operation had the authority to plant those charges that would derail the train prematurely. B1 and G1 were busy elsewhere so they didn’t do it. It wasn’t F1’s style and he was reasonably sure the Rooks had no part in it. That left Queen, going off the books to sacrifice him and the entire plan so she could… do what? Make a point? Bishop didn’t much care. All he knew was that E1 would be pissed and he wanted to be there to see the bitch go down. ‘And get a raise’ he reminded himself. Can’t forget the raise.

His thoughts on what he might spend his money on were brutally interrupted by a fist swinging out of the smoke to connect with his face, taking him clean-off his feet. He shook his head and scrambled to get back up only to have the same figure who punched him step out of the smoke and kick him in the throat. He hacked and gagged in pain, struggling through tears to see his attacker. He recognized the brown leather jacket first, the rest was easy.

“T-Travis!” He stammered as he quickly got to his feet and backed away. The train beneath them was grinding intermittently further towards the cliff behind him, and he almost lost his footing more than once because of the sudden shifts. He looked behind him at the next train car tipping over the edge and adding more weight with which to pull the rest. Fires raged on either side of them, preventing escape. “Travis! Buddy! I think we started off on the wrong foot here-“ his plea was rudely interrupted by a harsh jab to the nose.

“Don’t call me that.” Tremor responded as he advanced forward.
Bishop knew Tremor was in fairly bad shape, but something else was wrong. He kept shaking his head as if there was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t get out. Maybe he could use that to his advantage? He began to focus another phantom strike when he was slugged hard across the jaw, a string of blood and spit dribbling from his lip as he stumbled back further.

Tremor seemed to momentarily regain his composure, “I figured out your little trick.” He said with some measure of grim satisfaction. “Psychic attacks done in quick, but powerful bursts. Your enemy feels the hits so completely that their mind makes it real.” He continued forward as he spoke, throwing a low blow to Bishop’s diaphragm and driving the precious air from his lungs. Bishop tried to gasp as Tremor shoved him further back towards the encroaching ledge. Tremor continued, “It’s an impressive ability, but you had to take a shortcut to get the desired effect on every human being you meet. You needed a back door into the brain that couldn’t be resisted. Something common, but not obvious. Something that everyone relies on, but no one pays attention to.” He grabbed Bishop’s neck and looked him dead in the eye, “Peripherals… You attacked me from almost every angle except from the front and behind. The attacks always came from just out of the corner of my eyes, but that's because those are the only angles you can attack from. “ Bishop was bracing for another blow when Tremor’s hands suddenly loosened and he seemed to falter away. Getting his air back, Bishop watched, confused as Tremor shook his head in frustration trying to regain focus, “The hell?.. the words keep… God, why is it so hard to think?!”

Just then the cars shifted and another segment of the train tilted to pivot on the edge before grinding off and dragging the next car in line towards the same fate. For Tremor and Bishop, that car was theirs. The roof began to tilt as the frame screeched its final protest on the rocky precipice, throwing the two off balance enough to slip and roll off the end of the roof, slamming into the gangway door for the passenger car hanging vertically off the side. The aluminum shell for the gap between cars had already sheered away along with most of the supports. The only thing keeping the entire cabin from snapping free was a badly twisted coupling locking the two cars together. Both cabins were ablaze, the searing heat and smoke only barely contained within. As the two slowly got to their feet, the segment swayed slightly with a metallic groan of over 2,000 tons of train pulling it down. The two looked at one another.

“Well what now?” Bishop asked, their fight apparently on hold “The car above us is gonna tip over before we can climb it, the fire inside means we can’t go through it… and I’m pretty sure down isn’t an option!” As panic seemed to creep into Bishop’s voice the entire line jerked downward, tilting the top car even further and signaling their decent.

Working to steady himself on the shifting floor, Tremor seemed to drown out whatever noise was in his head for long enough to get an idea. He grabbed hold of the gangway ladder above him and pointed to small metal handle near the roof that had been used as a latch for the gangway chassis. “Hold onto that.”

Bishop took hold of the handle and watched as Tremor used the ladder like monkey bars to get near the coupling. At once Bishop could see what Tremor had in mind. The coupling was already damaged and struggling to hold the massive weight below. It was never designed for this kind of stress. All Tremor had to do was upset the locking mechanism with his powers to free the dead weight. Hanging by one hand, Tremor reached out and touched the coupling only to wince and quickly pull his hand away. The fires inside the cabin had been hot enough to make the ladder uncomfortable to hold onto, but the heat had also channeled through the steel frame to the coupling. With a grimace, Tremor reached out again and grabbed the coupling, a slight sizzling sound coming from where he touched the metal. The pain seemed to focus him however and soon what started as a low hum reverberating through him turned into a defining clamor shaking the entire frame. The noise reached its peak and there was a sharp ‘clang’ as the locking mechanism snapped and the train car under them wrenched free to drop soundlessly into the valley below. With the weight gone, the car above them groaned and started to sink back into a shallow incline. The rest of the train settled. Had Tremor really performed a heroic action that saved the remaining passengers, or was he just saving his own skin? Bishop chuckled slightly at the notion and shifted his grip on the handle. He could just barely reach the edge of the roof, but there wasn’t a decent hand hold for him to climb up. He glanced over to watch Tremor as he tenderly made his way up the ladder and onto the roof of the cabin, holding his burned hand gently before looking down at his opponent with a marked reluctance.

“Little help down here?” Bishop asked, as if to tip the scales in his favor.
Tremor let out a sigh and kneeled down, extending his uninjured hand for Bishop to grab onto. Bishop took the hand and let go of the handle, swinging out slightly and looking up at Tremor with visible relief.

Tremor started to pull him up when he suddenly stopped and frowned, “Why? Why did you set me up to fail? Why take out a whole train filled with people?” he asked in a grim tone, an edge of anger in his words.

Bishop swayed helplessly by his slowly diminishing grip. “We didn’t set you up to fail or win!” There was panic in his voice again, followed by a hint of annoyance, “Do you really think we would have gone through all this trouble for a bunch of civilians? We never would have done something this sloppy.”

Tremor seemed confused, “What are you talking about? What’s the point in putting me on a train that you want derailed if you’re not interested in the people? Unless… “Tremor’s eyes widened with a sudden realization and Bishop knew he’d gotten it.

“That’s right. We wanted you to derail the train so you could take the blame for it.” He laughed to himself, “Of course, it wasn’t supposed to go this way exactly, but who am I to argue with management?” Tremor glared down at Bishop before the sound of helicopters caught his attention. They were flying in from the sunset on the horizon. Bishop glanced that way and looked back to Tremor, “Rescue choppers, though you can bet one of them is a news chopper wanting to get all the juicy footage. Once they see your face, every division of law enforcement in the country is gonna be after you. We already put your name on the passenger list. Your ticket was paid for by you with a credit card in your name. Then there’s all the horrible things you did to those guards, some of which is sure to be on film when one of the security drives is recovered from the wreckage.” Bishop seemed to smile with contempt as he struggled to maintain his grip, “No one is going to believe anything you have to say. You’re a head case, and worse, you’re a mutant! You’ve broken your parole and already have a history of violence!” Tremor looked like he was somewhere between putting the pieces together and feeling trapped. Anger quickly followed.

He seethed down at Bishop, “Who set me up? Why? What could you possibly have to gain from framing me?” Bishop seemed to laugh nervously as he shifted his grip to his other hand.

“C-come on Tremor! I’m following orders just like you! They barely let me know enough to even do my job! Maybe it’s supposed to spark some kind of Anti-mutant sentiment and jump start the civil war everyone knows is gonna happen! How the hell should I know? Pull me up already!”

Tremor frowned. “Call them off. Tell them it was a setup!”

Bishop shook his head, clearly getting tired of holding on. “I-I can’t! They have contingency plans for-“He was about to say more when Tremor seemed to let his grip slide a little to emphasize his point. Bishop didn’t need to be told twice.

“Ok! Ok already! I know some people who can help! They might be able to sort this out. I’ve been thinking of going over to the other side anyway. Can you please pull me up now? I’m slipping!” Tremor frowned and begrudgingly started pull when he suddenly paused and winced at a noise only he seemed to hear. It was the same weird fatigue Bishop had seen in him earlier, like he couldn’t focus properly. He watched as Tremor tried to form words that wouldn’t come. His eyes kept blinking as if he was having trouble staying awake. Bishop started to panic as he felt Tremor’s grasp loosen, “Uh… Tremor? Snap out of it! We don’t have time for this!” He looked over at the choppers closing in. “Hello? Travis? Wake up!” he watched as the strange fever that had overtaken Tremor reached its peak and abruptly vanished. Bishop felt Tremor’s grip return and breathed a sigh of relief, “You had me worried there for a second Tremor. …Tremor?” As he waited for a response, Bishop realized something was wrong. Tremor’s expression had changed. His lips had curled into a twisted grin. His eyes… there was something wrong about his eyes.

And then Tremor let go.