undergrounds | The Night Train

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The Night Train

It's the 22nd of January and the sun has disappeared behind the horizon. You're waiting at your nearest station when a sleek, metallic grey train pulls up at the platform. No one else can see it, only those who are aware of the supernatural world. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Night Train. Tonight the leaders of the Night Council will be making their annual introduction to the supernatural community – aboard a train that will make stops in every borough with a significant supernatural presence. Hop on and off whenever you like: this event is designed to be open to all. (Though for some reason the train won't be passing through East End or Seelie/Unseelie territory...)

The event takes place from 7pm-12 midnight Sunday 22nd January.

Rules of entry
• No weapons. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol except that provided at the event. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence. The train is cursed with a hex that will punish any trouble-causing passengers with a lightning strike. The Council doesn't mess around here.

Carriages
The train has five carriages, each one with a different theme. While the Night Council members are dispersed throughout the train, they are under no obligation to stay in their carriage and will likely move around to network and meet fellow members of the supernatural community. There are cameras and security guards in every carriage to ensure there is no trouble.

1) PRESIDENT / VICE PRESIDENT. At the front of the train is a carriage decked out as if for royalty. Surprisingly spacious, the carriage is decorated with gilt trimmings, a thick wine-red carpet and leather seating. Portraits of previous Presidents and Vice Presidents line the wall. Coffee, tea and wine is being served at tables interspersed throughout the carriage and finger sandwiches are available.

2) WITCH REPRESENTATIVE. The next carriage along belongs to the Witch Representative. It's rather like walking into a greenhouse: the entire place is full of herbs and other plants, and there are tables where you can sit and ask for advice or magical favours from witches with varying specialities: a healer, a herbalist, a psychic, a medium and a potions maker. Magical butterflies flutter along the ceiling and among the flowers like colourful lights. A small bar at the end of the carriage serves a variety of herbal teas.

3) VAMPIRE REPRESENTATIVE. The next carriage along belongs to the Vampire Representative. Decorated in a tasteful dark red, about half the carriage's length is taken up by a wine bar that serves a variety of alcoholic and blood-based drinks and snacks. The other half consists of leather seating where the seats face each other to allow guests to talk while enjoying a drink.

4) SHAPESHIFTER/META HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE. It seems that Yasmine decided her aim for the night was to let loose and avoid talking, since this carriage is basically a narrow dance floor. Club music blares out from speakers on the ceiling, there's a disco ball and strobe lighting, and all the windows are blacked out. A magical seal ensures that the noise is contained within this carriage, so you won't hear any of it until you step inside.

5) EMPTY CARRIAGE. There's nothing here apart from rows of seats that you might find on any ordinary train. A sign on the door says "WARNING: THIS CARRIAGE IS HAUNTED. KEEP OUT." If you ignore the sign and go in anyway, you might feel a sense of unease. The shadows seem unnaturally long and the lights will flicker on and off. Magically sensitive types will feel a strong sense of impending death and may experience visions of the seats being ripped apart and blood spattered on the walls. If you stick around even after that, the most magically sensitive person in the carriage will experience a vivid hallucination of their own death at the hands of a vampire. If you manage to endure that without fleeing, PM the mod to continue. (Don't worry, no one will die.)

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Sliding into the compartment, Nancy feels cold. It's a large change from the excitement and brightness she was feeling earlier. She wraps her arms around herself, as best she can with her glass, and takes a seat.

She had no reason to feel so uneasy. Eames was a good friend, and she had good news for him. "I'm getting an honest job."

"Really?" It's a mixed reaction, but not a negative one. Both pleased for her and a little cautious; she's not exactly a person who exists in any legal sense. Makes all of that job getting a little... Messy.

He shifts a little closer to Nancy and takes off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders. It's not a real cold, it's whatever happened in this carriage, but maybe it'll comfort enough to push that aside.

"Doing what?"

No, she doesn't. Any police record of her was scrubbed clean, and she had only been added to any sort of Night Council records recently. Also the fact that she had never had a job before, nor had she ever been to school. It really put her at a disadvantage.

"Thank you," she says, gently touching the lapel of his coat, and looking up at him. She pulls it a bit tighter around her. "'S'cold in here." As if to excuse her behavior. She shifts back from one foot to the other, kicking her other leg up behind her briefly to get her blood flowing.

"I'm not sure yet. I was going to speak with an acquaintance of mine- he offered me a job earlier, and I'm hoping he'll keep the invitation open." She'd be working at an auto-shop as a sort of receptionist, from what she recalled. If she could get the job in the first place.

Eames nods, a smile in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth at the news. At the very least, it'll make it a damn sight easier to make sure she doesn't just turn up dead at some point.

"Do you know if it's all above board or--" He trails off like something's suddenly happened, the way a cat will suddenly be alert and wide-eyed when they think they've heard something across the room. It's only brief, a reflexive action just like the way his whole body tenses and he seems angry at whatever he's looking at.

But he knows illusions, and that's not real. He shakes his head and seems to relax, but whatever Eames was about to say is totally gone from his head now.

Her jaw drops a little bit at the very idea. "Oh- I don't know, exactly, yet," she started to say, but cuts off the second Eames tenses. The quick movements have her on edge, recoiling. She pales in the low light.

"What was that?" She asks, turning to look at the area that Eames had been looking in. Was it just her, or was that spot a bit darker than the rest of the carriage? Without hesitation, she summons a small ball of light in the palm of her hand, shining it towards the darkness.

"Mick?!"

Edited 2017-01-24 18:07 (UTC)

Micheletto had been enjoying the solitude of the haunted train car. And someone had to come in and ruin it all. But he recognized Nancy's voice, and the conversation was interesting enough, so he did not leave his hunched position in his shadowy corner, and merely listened to their discussion for the moment.

About the same time Eames sees the disturbing images, Micheletto does too, of a vampire's fangs sinking into his helpless and messily having its fill, followed by the image of his lifeless corpse collapsing to the floor of the train car, a sticky puddle of crimson covering the dusty flooring. But he has enough composure to keep himself together, though it makes his powers over shadow waver slightly, just in time for Nancy to shove a ball of light in his face.

Micheletto squints against the light, holding up a hand over his eyes to shield himself. He gives a soft grunt of displeasure, but finally responds, "... just me."

Eames makes a noise of intense displeasure, both at the sudden vision of what he'd guess was some kind of train massacre, and now this asshole. Eames is very aware of Micheletto's magic now he knows he's there, kinda kicking himself for not noticing it before. He's usually better than that.

The seats nearest to Micheletto rattle like something's trying to rip them away from the wall, and Eames has tensed again, though his expression and voice are perfectly stable as he takes this guy in.

"And who the hell is 'me'?"

Well then.

Micheletto turns his gaze to the seats next to him first, raising a brow in interest but saying nothing more. He squints against Nancy's light again, his eyes adjusting so that he can look at Eames instead.

"... Mick," he answers, parroting Nancy, gesturing to her as if asking her to back him up. Then he uncurls his legs from against his chest, so that he may stand.

"Was taking a nap. Then the light woke me up." He gives a noncommittal shrug.

When she recognizes him, Nancy turns her light down so as not to blind him.

"I'm so sorry, Mick," she tells him. "Eames, this is-" but her words are cut off by what feels like a bite down on her throat. Her hand flies to her neck, and she pulls her hand away bloody.

"what..." she asks, looking at her fingers. To the others, they won't see anything. Another hallucination. Instantly however all thoughts of introductions are gone, as she feels a cold hand on her shoulder. Nancy gasps, and tries to wrench herself free from the invisible hand.

"let go of me!"

Well okay, he's fairly sure that's bullshit, if only because Eames is relatively certain that whatever the deal with this carriage is, it wouldn't just let a sleeping person be.

The seats stop rattling though, because he's not about to expend all his energy trying to crush one of Nancy's friends (apparently. Because she knows everyone) in front of her.

He'd have some questions, but Nancy's shouting and wriggling and Eames' attention is drawn to her. Immediately he shifts forward toward her, reaching out to cup the side of her face with a hand and take one of hers with the other, voice firm but it's not loud or panicked.

"Nancy-- Nancy, it's not real," he ducks his head to try and catch her gaze, "look at me, Nancy. Focus."

"He's right," Micheletto continues, stepping forward into the train car to place his warm hand on Nancy's shoulder, his grip tight but not painful. "Whatever you are seeing, feeling, hearing - question it. Breathe."

While Eames is keeping Nancy down to earth, Micheletto is going to keep his eye on the rest of the car. He has dealt with ghosts before, but not one who could possess an entire train car... unless it's something within the confines of the car, instead?

It bites down again, even as Eames touches her. Her eyes flash over to the side she believes the vampire has bitten down on, expecting to see him there. Nothing.

But instead in the car there are bodies, pale and broken, lying in pools of their own blood. Three of them, she recognizes, just beyond Mick and Eames' shoulders. Eyes wide, she looks at the corpses, and lets out a small cry, sinking back.

"It's not real?" She asks, looking from one to the other for conformation.

Even for him, it's a bit of a struggle to ignore some of this. The images are so vivid, so believable that it makes them hard to push aside. Part of him wonders if he could overpower it, if he has enough magical might to throw around that he could just drown out whatever this is, but there's no way to know until he's got some idea what kind of ghost (or other) they're dealing with here.

"It's not real," he confirms, eyes fixed on Nancy's.

Micheletto knows this cannot be real, despite how vivid the images are. Even the most powerful vampire in London would think twice before biting the neck of one wearing a witch's amulet. He presses his thumb against the layers of clothing above the amulet, briefly, to remind himself that it was still there.

Even so, the metallic tang of freshly-spilt blood seems to hang in the air...

"Deep breaths, Nancy." His eyes flick to the other man, briefly, to make sure he won't lose his head, either.

She focuses on her breath, in and out, in and out, reminding herself, "it's not real," but the corpses looked just like the two men in front of her, just like herself...

"...they look just like you."

"You'd know if a vampire killed me," Eames says softly, a touch of wryness to his tone in an attempt to lighten the mood a little, "I'd kick up a hell of a ruckus."

Micheletto feels the scraping claws against his back, his neck, and feels another bite there. He suppresses an involuntary shiver, blinking away the pain and doing his best to ignore the feeling of sticky wetness slowly trailing down his neck, his shoulders...

"Likely not the work of true vampires, or of Unseelie fae," Micheletto says, to no one in particular. "Unless this faerie is particularly convincing. Its illusions are quite extensive, regardless. The obvious suspect is a ghost, yet... I've never seen one quite like this."

The joke falls flat, and Nancy reaches out for Eames to hold on to her, to steady her. "Stay with me," she asks him, because if she wasn't touching him, he could easily not be real.

There's another bite, this time on her other wrist, and she lets out a small sort of gasp. "It's not real," she reminds herself. "We- we should leave." If it was truly haunted. "I promised Cooper he could- drink tonight." And the bites may not have been real, but she could swear she felt the pull from her veins, the slow weakening that signaled loss of blood.

Eames' jaw clenches at Mick's comments, being a powerful Unseelie who specialises in believable illusions and all, but that's not important.

"Let's get you out of here," he says softly, putting an arm around Nancy. He fully intends to figure out what's causing this, but obviously Nancy needs to leave before he can focus on that.

Aha. It seems he hit the nail on the head. He'll file that away for later.

"Agreed," Micheletto answers, briefly glancing at Eames to give him a nod. He'll watch your back, and Nancy's. But it's clear that Nancy is the most affected by whatever this is, and it's not a good idea to let a hallucinating witch cast spells at nothing.

Be nice, Mick. Eames is the greatest.

Nancy leans into Eames, still dwarfed by his coat. "Please." She turns back towards the door, or, more importantly: where the door should have been.

"It's not there."

There's a blank wall where the door used to be. Then, without warning, there's a man in dirty, blood-spattered clothes sitting with his back against the wall, knees drawn up. He stares at them with hollow eyes, his jaw dark with stubble.

"You people really can't take a hint."

It isn't just the ghost who has become visible. The train car around them has changed as well, the glimpses of carnage seen by each of them resolving into a permanent grisly scene.* Bodies strewn throughout the carriage. Blood spattered on the windows. And the man with hollow eyes watching it all.

*warning: blood, corpses.

Oh.

Eames' reaction is perhaps a little less than someone might imagine when it comes to suddenly being thrust into the scene of a massacre. He inhales sharply, pulling away from the back of the seat, and he looks at the man sat against the wall.

"I've been told that a few times," he raises an eyebrow, tone light like they're not totally in the bloody ghost massacre compartment of this train, "is this your doing?"

Micheletto actually seems to relax at seeing all the dead around them. It's an odd reaction to have to such a grisly scene, but Micheletto is an odd person, as Eames has surely noticed. He actually takes a seat next to one of the bodies, gently lifting their blood-drenched arm over the seat so that he may sit down. It's all fake anyway, isn't it? No sense mourning the dead when they're not actually there.

"You're a rather powerful ghost, if a fae can't spot you so easily," Micheletto comments, fascinated with this individual. "What may we call you, sir?"

The ghost shrugs at Eames. What does he think? The two men in the carriage are remarkably unfazed by the scene around them, which suggests they're either vampires themselves or some other creature used to carnage. Given their previous discussion he slightly favours the latter.

"Foxy," he answers. "Which one of you is a witch?"

There's something predatory about the way his eyes rake over each of them in turn, a leftover from the old days.

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