Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is a story that exists and doesn’t exist.

That is indeed a bizarre thing to say, but when dealing with the mysteries of the multiverse it is crucial to consider impossibilities and contradictory information. And the mysteries of that green snake are numerous and incredibly paradoxical.

This is the story of a girl I once met – in a different time, in a different place. A girl who exists and yet was never real. If I were to show up before her now, she would not remember me.

Her name was ‘Juri’ Van Helsing.

1872 America was a very different place, merely seven short years after the American Civil War. But don’t let that fool you. For you would not recognize this version of America.

General Odysseus Graham now finally elected President of the United States of America, to officially succeed after a long period of power vacuums created by the assassination of President Abram Lincoln. His death left behind a legacy for a new beginning where men who stepped foot on this land could truly be free. But the Civil War also gave birth to new races of mysterious monsters, and thus the country’s weary eyes began to wander off elsewhere, looking for a new enemy to unite against. An enemy the people weren’t even sure existed.

The steam locomotive, later perfected to plasma locomotive, played a crucial part in aiding both sides of the Civil War when the North began advancing south to the Mississippi, pushing Americans into a new age of technology. Revolutionized by brilliant inventor and mathematician Anderson Olsen, plasma technology was pushed forth during the summer of 1863 to astonishing results. Plasma ores found in mines and riverbanks, previously thought to be useless, would now transform ordinary firearms into deadly machines of war, capable of incredibly precise and devastating damage. Weaponry of the old age was still common, as often times plasma upgrades were expensive and labor intensive. But as Olsen predicted, it would only be a matter of time…

It was hard to predict what would happen if Olsen hadn’t found out the plasma minerals by accident that one night while he was lighting up a cigarette, throwing the burning match outside his porch onto some strange glowing rock. Olsen would later write in his biography, stating he believed it was a gift from God, like how the burning bush appeared to Moses, or blasphemously, how Prometheus gifted the fire of the heaven to mortals down below.

Only a matter of time.

In a small town of North Falls, Oregon, two lone horsemen rode valiantly into this quiet community. The streets were nearly empty, with the people inside the buildings barely even noticing the two strangers entering their soil, much less caring about them. This eerie atmosphere would often scare away those who were faint of heart, but for these two – they were here because it was their mission to be.

Though the adults of the town avoided eye contact and stayed away from these new strangers, the children were awfully fascinated by the mechanical steaming horse one of the strangers was riding on. The hooves clip-clopped of heavy metal sound, as the steam valves whistled between the golden and steel hinges loud enough for even the kids peeking down from tall buildings to notice. The horse behaved as if it were a living breathing animal, shaking its head back and forth, wagging its tail made of steel chains like a pendulum. On its forehead was a silver cross bolted onto a thin steel plate, almost acting as a shield of sort.

More peculiarly however was the way its rider was dressed. Upon closer inspection, the children of the town realized that the rider was a woman. She was young, somewhere in her early twenties. She wore an unusually green colored short torso vest over a long black shirt underneath with an unusually long tail hanging behind. Her long black leather pants blended well with the shirt, making her seem almost abnormally tall. The same went for her shoes, which were polished to a diamond shine with the smooth black surface melting in with the almost baggy look down her shins and ankles. The young girl had long brilliant orange hair, a color not common around these parts, hidden underneath a flat wide-brimmed hat which provided enough shades to cover the square goggles underneath this beautiful lock of hair. Wrapping around her neck was a leather chord from which dangled a small black cross.

The young girl had a very abnormal build that wasn’t really common with women and even men sometimes. Wide shoulders, lanky arms and slender legs, and yet despite all of this, the girl composed herself very well with great confidence, most apparent in the way she got off her horse and walked it forth to the front of a saloon – commanding, tall, and decisive.

Of course, the questions on all the kids’ minds did not stop there, because the young girl’s traveling companion was almost as rare a sight as the girl herself. For he was a priest, dressing a little more ordinary compared to the girl. The tan skinned, white hair young man wore his dark red robe with his white collar over his neck. On his waist was a piece of cloth draping downwards with a white cross emblem sewn into the thick crimson leather. While the priest’s outfit was much more typical, the kids couldn’t help but wonder why he was wearing such dark colors in the middle of this burning desert heat. He should be sweating buckets by now, fidgeting about on his saddle with the bulky robe, but no – he was as calm as his companion, moving forward like none of it bothered him.

Who were these two strangers? And why hadn’t anybody else but the quiet innocent children noticed them?

“Thirsty?” The priest asked the girl as he got off his saddle.

“Absolutely parched,” the girl flapped her own sweating neck with her hat, using it as a makeshift fan.

“To think we lost all our luggage back there,” said the priest. “What luck, damn… what are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry, Father Drakul,” the girl winked, pulling up her goggles. “I have a plan.”

And the girl kicked down the door of the saloon, storming inside without a care in the world.

Inside were several sets of empty chairs and empty tables, with only a few being occupied by a small number of patrons, enough to count on one’s hand. Two old gentlemen playing poker in a table by the corner. A young-looking teen, perhaps young man in his early twenties sleeping on the opposite table with his black top hat covering his face. And finally, a small dog with silky black fur sitting on one of the tables, licking over a glass of spilt alcohol.

What the girl had her sight set on however, was the bartender, who was busy wiping his top shelf as he stood on a small wooden stool. He was a short stubby man wearing a stained white apron and a black vest over a light green shirt. His balding head seemed indicative of his old age, if the bushy mustache didn’t already give that away.

“Welcome, stranger,” said the bartender, still cleaning his shelf. “Yer new in town, eh? What will it be then?”

The priest followed inside after the young girl. He had this stern expression on his face, not locking eyes with anybody else in the room beside the bartender. The two walked confidently towards the counter, and bizarrely, only one set of footsteps could be heard rumbling on the wooden planks on the floor. Was this a unique skill that one of these two strangers had managed to master?

“Whiskey,” the priest said simply, “and leave the bottle.”

“A little early in the day, isn’t it?” The bartender turned his head around. “Aren’t you on duty, Father?”

“It eases the burden of the duty,” said the priest.

“Just give him what he wants,” the girl plopped down to one of the seats. “Water for me, if you have it.”

“Coming right up. Though the water will cost ya extra, little lass.”

“Shoot, alright, then just… a glass of cactus beer then.”

The bartender nodded his head. And in a flash, he slid two glasses and an old bottle of whiskey across the counter to where the two travelers sat. The girl had still yet to take off her hat and goggles, despite the gruesome heat.

“So what brings you folks around these parts?” The bartender asked. “You here visiting or…”

The girl and the priest exchanged a glance with each other, before nodding. She then proceeded to smile.

“Good sir,” she said. “I am here to find my vampiric brethren.”

The room fell silent at the comment, but the other patrons did not seem to care much of these people’s businesses, with the old men continuing with their card games and the young man still deep in his slumber. Their breaths were slowed however, ever so slightly, a peculiar detail the priest noticed.

The bartender tilted his head in confusion, still standing there.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, ‘scuse me,” the girl clapped her hands together, before extending them forth for the bartender to shake, “where are my manners? I am Van Helsing – Juri Van Helsing. And this is my partner Father Drakul.”

“Huh… those are some peculiar names,” he shook her hands, “I’m Shane. Are you two foreign?”

“Well, that’s not really important right now,” said Juri, right before reaching into her pocket to pull out a glass vial with some strange red liquid inside. “Can I show you something, Shane?”

Placing it on the wooden counter where the sun could shine through the liquid, Shane stood there staring at the vial, unblinking. Drakul proceeded to pour himself a glass of whiskey, and instantaneously downing it in a single gulp.

“This here,” Juri explained, “is a vampire’s blood. My blood, I’m sure you’ve heard of the stories, perhaps even seen them yourself. Blood thirsty monsters who stalk in the shadows.”

“I heard them tales, yes,” Shane scratched his head. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you, little lass… is some kinda… one of those blood sucking monsters whatever they’re called?”

“Indeed, I am,” Juri grinned ever so slightly. “It’s hard to believe, I know, on the account of me still being alive despite my exposure to the sun. But I assure you, there is a perfectly good explanation for this. Which I will now attempt to explain before the sun goes down, before the little minute hand hits twelve, and the hour hand hits six here on my watch.”

Juri pulled up her wristwatch for all to see, clearly drawing the bartender’s attention to it on purpose. It was after all, a peculiar watch with strange metal parts being screwed together underneath what looked like a bright glowing coat of blue paint on its brim, or perhaps it was the electricity inside sparkling like a lightning bolt.

Shane had never seen such a thing before in his life, but what was concerning to him however was that the watch was in reverse. As in the hour hand was pointing towards near the bottom left, and the minute hand was pointing to the top right, despite it being ten minutes to six. The labels of the numbers were small, but Shane could still see that they were all backwards, all thanks to the glowing blue mechanism underneath.

“Did you know,” said Juri, “that you can get a priest to bless a vampire’s blood and save its soul for God?”

It was at this point that a slight twitch on Shane’s eyebrow could be seen if one were very observant. Drakul continued to down another glass. Juri continued:

“People often don’t know this, but holy water actually contains special chemical properties that can and will react violently when in contact with a vampire’s blood. It breaks down the molecular bonds to such a degree that if enough holy water is present, there wouldn’t be a trace of blood remained.”

Juri took the glass of cactus beer Shane handed her earlier, and swiftly chuck its content right onto the floor to Shane’s absolute shock and concern. Not before being met with the bizarre sight of the girl spitting a mouthful right into the empty glass. Shane was flabbergasted, partly because of how much spit was actually in the glass.

“They say that holy water is so powerful that even a drop of blood from a twenty-yard radius would be vaporized by merely being in the vicinity,” Juri grinned, showing off her perfect set of white teeth.

“I… I don’t know what y’all want in this town,” Shane began to sweat, “but I think it be best you leave now. Look, I’ll even let you stay the night in one of our rooms upstairs, bed and breakfast. But you gotta go by morning. This whole… demonic mumbo jumbo, it’s… it’s too much.”

“Come on, Shane, where’s your spirit of adventure?” Juri wagged her finger, egging him on. “Father Drakul, would you be willing to do the honor and bless this water so that it may be holy?”

And that was when Drakul lowered his third glass of whiskey to reveal an almost devilish smile underneath.

“It would be my pleasure, Ms. Van Helsing.”

But before Drakul could even reach into his robe to pull out a bible, he was met with the cold sensation of the steel gun barrel pressing right against his head. He dared not move an inch, because he knew that Shane was about to blow his brain out onto the floor with his sweaty and trigger-happy finger. The bartender gritted his teeth, and his eyes widened to show the sweat of a coward.

“You bastards don’t dare move an inch now!” Shane cried, with his revolver trembling. “I’m warning you!”

“This… isn’t turning out how I hoped it would,” said Juri.

“Wait, so that was your masterplan?” Drakul snapped. “No backup plan or anything?”

“Cut me some slack, will you? I didn’t have much to work with. But maybe… I think I have something for that…” Juri reached down the side of her hip, as if to reach for a gun.

“STAY BACK!”

Trigger-happy finger went all wild. And a loud bang roared from the gun barrel, followed shortly by a hole bursting out on Juri’s forehead, clear as day. It looked like the bullet went straight through from one end to the other.

“I… I told yer to stay back, but ya didn’t listen!” Shane began to shake, tears overflowing his eyes and sweat dripping down his forehead.

And yet…

“You should really work on your aim, old man.”

Shane widened his eyes, looking up to the sight that should not be, that could not be. There was a hole on the girl’s forehead. Her brain should’ve been blown to bits, with blood splattered all over the wall. So what was this madness? The girl still stood tall and confident?

“H…h…how?” Shane gasped, with his hand still gripping tightly on the revolver, preparing to fire once again. “You should be DEAD! What the hell is going on?”

“Looks like we found our target, Father Drakul,” Juri stood there posing as a taunt, smiling. “I was afraid we were going to have to do this with everybody in town. But it seemed like the wanted poster steered us right.”

“Indeed,” Drakul slammed the glass down on the counter, just now downing the last sip of that whiskey.

Without another moment wasted, Juri sped up, jumping right onto the wooden counter and began racing towards the frightened bartender.

“You know how I said I was looking for my vampiric brethren?” She cried out excitedly.

Only for Shane to finally notice the odd glint of light flashing off right in front of Juri’s entire body as she rushed towards him. Irregular details in front of him began to surface as he began to suspect some trickery at work. With the final revelation concerning the girl’s backward watch Shane saw earlier, he began connecting the dots, only to then turn around and receive a brutal kick to the mouth, a swift strike – sending the man flying far towards the window.

The force of the kick was so great the man’s body began spiraling in midair as he plunged his head not just through the front window of the saloon, but through a large mirror set up before that. A square mirror held up by some sort of mechanism on wheels, and in the middle of it – was the hole where his bullet pierced through.

Shane finally understood. As Juri remarked:

“I lied.”

The man was sent tumbling out onto the dirt road of the town, even crashing through a whole wooden pillar right before biting on the dust.

“I was worried we were going to have to haul that mirror everywhere,” Juri said as she jumped outside. Squatting on the ground, observing the bartender squirming.

“How did you even do this? When did you get it inside?” Drakul asked, “And why didn’t you go over it with me?”

Juri turned her head, pulled up her goggles only to wink at the confused priest with her glimmering green eyes.

“A magician never reveals her secret… and I sort of pulled off a few parts from my horse to craft a mini carrier thing with wheels, what do you call it? A cart? A tart? Ah, doesn’t matter. It holds up the mirror, and it wheels itself inside, bada bing…”

Shane struggled to get on his feet, clinging tightly on his knee as his bloodied face began oozing out disgusting black gooey blood of some kind. The liquid was thick and dark, almost like coal tar of some sort slowly dripping down his face and staining the ground, only to immediately sizzle onto the soil – there in the distance, the setting sun was nearly down, but its light ray was still sharp. Furiously cutting at the delicate flaky skin that was crumbling from the bartender’s mangled up face.

“Y… you bastard!” Shane began coughing on the ground, “What did you do to my beautiful visage?”

“Beautiful?” Juri slapped her knee, “Have you ever looked yourself in the mirror? Oh wait, I guess you can’t. A vampire is a vampire, a spade a spade.”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

The monster lunged at the two travelers, baring his foul black fangs and his bloody red glare. The apron that was stained with dirt and booze were now soaked in blood. And his vest that was once buttoned up neatly was now torn apart to reveal the pale rotten skin underneath, the skin of an undead monster. To think, a repulsive being such as this was hidden in plain sight all this time, blended right into the townsfolk.

Which was why cleansing the demons of this land was the utmost important duty – enter Father Drakul.

Out of thin air, he conjured up a heavy minigun colored in a dark shade of blue, with shiny golden paint coating the individual gun barrels and a cross symbol melted onto the side of the weapon. It was a hefty weapon, one that could not possibly be hidden away in plain sight, nor could it be carried around without regular people noticing. So what was the magic that allowed the priest to enter one corner empty handed and come out the other side with this holy weapon in his hand?

Was this a gift bestowed unto him by a force on high?

It certainly seemed that way the moment he revved up his gun and the numerous golden gun barrels began to spin furiously – unleashing a barrage of white sparkling energy projectiles that burned hotter than dragon’s fire. The roaring of the weapon was loud and fierce, but it was also strong and elegant, as if every single round were determined to make its mark and not stray away from the path of righteous retribution.

“I pray,” Juri muttered under her lips as the machine gun raged on, “o’ Lord in heaven have mercy on even the demons that tempted the world of man.”

Was the prayer heard? It wasn’t exactly clear. I certainly couldn’t tell you. What was certain, however, was the absolute thorough cleansing of Drakul’s ritual. Indeed, to him this was a ritual, a duty that needed to be carried out to its end. To rend the monstrous flesh of this demon from the bones, to melt its skin into a puddle, if that was what the Lord required. And the Lord required the cleansing of this evil from His beautiful green earth, and thus it was so. All that now remained once the minigun stopped firing was the charred melted skeleton steaming with burning flesh chunks.

And it was clear to the two of them, the monster was no more.

“Well, that takes care of that,” the minigun instant vaporized from the priest’s grasp, mainly for him to clasp his hands together to pray to the Lord above.

“Shane D. McCarthy,” said Juri as she walked over to the melted corpse, collecting the vampiric essence into one of her vials. “I knew the guy was well hidden away into the crowd, but I didn’t think he would have the entire town a slave under his thumb. How long do you reckon the people are going to stay lethargic and braindead for?”

“About a day or two,” said Drakul, while still closing his eyes, deep in prayer. “So… is this the one we’re looking for?”

“I can’t say for sure without my equipment. The mechanic’s probably not going to wake up any time soon, so I probably won’t be able to buy anything off him. Best to just go to the next town and resupply there.”

“Then there’s nothing left for us here. Let’s go, I don’t feel safe staying in this town. The evil still lingers, I can smell it. I think there’s supposed to be a small oasis just south of here. Let’s make camp there.”

“Agreed.”

But before the two of them could turn around to fetch their horses, they were bewildered by the sight of the saloon door in the back swinging open – for the young sleeping man had awoken, standing out here with sweat soaking his face. Dripping as the shade of his top hat covered over his eyes.

Upon closer inspection, the two noticed the young man looked even younger than before. Almost like a boy who had just hit his early teens. Was this because of the vampire’s effects wearing off after Shane’s death? But how did he wake up so early when the rest of the town still remained empty and idle? And why did he dress so fancy for someone his age? Silky black leather tailcoat worn over a vest underneath tailored with specific and peculiar star patterns. The young man looked on at the melted corpse lying on the street, panting heavily.

“You… you killed him…” the young man muttered.

And the two travelers responded with confident indifference.

“And what of it?” Drakul said. “You can try to report this to the sheriff, but it’s not like he’ll believe you. Vampires are thieves of the night, they steal Dreams, stories, dignity.”

“You!” The young man pointed his finger at Juri, as if he didn’t hear a single word from Drakul. “I’ve seen you before… on those wanted posters. You’re that vampire hunter – Van Helsing!”

“Aw, look at that, Father Drakul, I have a fan.”

“Please, I need your help…”

“Me?”

“Yes…” he frantically nodded his head, “I need help from someone experienced in the supernatural.”

“Sorry pal,” Drakul cut him off, “but this is official church business that doesn’t involve civilians like yourself. This young lady is my target, marked by God. I have been tasked with the mission to kill the Devil, and kill the Devil I shall.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the young man stepped closer, now more anxious than ever. “My name is Marcus Waldo Diaz – and I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I am.”

5 hours later…

“Do you think it was wise to leave him behind?” Juri said as the two of them sped into the distance on their horses.

“We’ve gone over this, there’s nothing supernatural about amnesia,” said Drakul. “I see the oasis, let’s make camp there.”

“Wait a minute…” Juri stopped her horse. “Something’s wrong. Weren’t we just talking to the young man a few seconds ago?”

Drakul stared at the girl, then rubbed the side of his temple, consumed by confusion. Shaking his head vigorously did not seem to do anything, either.

But most disturbing of all…

Was the green glowing number shuffling on Juri’s right hand, stopping right at the number 40, lingering on the skin of her palm.

Chapter Text

South Falls, Oregon.

“I still don’t understand how the mirror trick worked yesterday,” Drakul said, as he stood leaning against the wall of the mechanic shop. “I swear, I saw you on my left, sitting on the counter. How did you magically appear on my right? How did you make your voice sound like it came from the left?”

“I told you,” said Juri, as she rummaged through the piles of metal scraps, “a magician’s secret. No point in telling you, man of God. You’ll just accuse me of witchcraft anyway.”

“One time, Juri. It was one time. The church didn’t believe me either way… not the first time at least.”

“I’m just saying,” she smiled, “it’s awfully funny seeing how you go around with your magic minigun, accusing me of sorcery of all things.”

Juri gathered all the items she picked out and placed them on the front counter, where the mechanic stood with his gaze of indifference.

“That’ll be 25 bucks,” he said.

“By the way, do you happen to know the way to the South Station?” Juri asked as she handed the man the money. “We’re new around these parts.”

“Just keep heading south,” he said, as he smoked his cigar. “You’ll hear the train noise when you get there, can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

She swept all the items into a large leather satchel she seemingly pulled out of her sleeves, then proceeded to toss it right over her shoulder.

“You got everything?” Drakul asked as they walked out.

“Yeah, this will make my horse go ten percent faster.”

“I meant – did you have everything you need to test the blood?”

“Oh yeah, it’s right here on my watch.”

“You could’ve tested it the entire time?” Drakul cried.

“Hey, cut me some slack, the minute hand was crooked. Plus, I ran out of plasma cores.”

“I swear to God, if you waste another minute on these exotic scavenger hunts…”

The two walked out onto the scene of the great town of South Falls, much more bustling than North Falls where they came from. Like the yin to the yang, this place was brimming with travelers and civilians going about their daily businesses. A couple of heavy horse wagons there on the outskirt of the town with some barrels of rum that just came in this morning. They were being hauled away into a new saloon under construction. Placed very peculiarly next to the sheriff’s office, a building painted in an elegant coat of white. It was amusing to see the house of law placed next to the place where drunkards often fought and dueled each other over petty but sometimes criminal things. Though, Juri suspected the sheriff most likely wanted to keep an eye on the thugs. Drakul on the other hand thought the sheriff merely didn’t want to walk a long road for a drink.

“Relax, Father,” Juri patted him on his back as they walked over to their horses. “It’s not like the church is going to send an agent to check up on us or anything.”

“They might very well, you know. What with your face pasted all over those wanted posters.”

“Oh yeah…” she began tapping her chin as she tossed the satchel onto her saddle. “There’s no time better than the present then. Let’s test it right now.”

The girl pulled forth the vial of blood from her pocket, and immediately emptied it into a small hole located on the side of her wristwatch, just under the little silver knob. The watch began to vibrate for a moment, sparkling blue electricity underneath the metal surfaces. The energy produced from such a tiny device was extraordinary. An energy strong enough to force the watch’s hands to rotate vigorously as if it was spinning up a vortex.

It took a good long minute before the hands firmly stopped dead in its track, with the minute hand pointing diagonally to the top left and the hour hand pointing horizontally across to the right. It read ten minutes to three.

A result the two of them clearly didn’t want to see, accompanied by Drakul’s long sigh of exhaustion.

“Back to the drawing board,” Drakul lamented, as Juri’s lips began to shake, despite her calm steely eyes.

The priest had known the girl for quite a long time, but seeing her struggling like this had always made him fluster. Making him scratch his head, fidgeting around. Unsure of what to do, what to say.

“Look,” he laid his hand on her shoulder, “let’s keep going, yeah? The right one will turn up eventually. We can’t just give up now.”

Juri sighed:

“Yeah… I know… I know… it’s just… I want to go home. Mother must be worried. I wonder if she’s eating enough. Sometimes I have nightmares, you know – about what happens if we fail. If we can’t find the right one.”

“That’s not an idea I want to entertain. I really don’t want to kill you. But it’s my duty. So we either come back with the right vial of blood… or I come back with your head.”

“Your overt optimism is noted,” Juri smiled ever so slightly, putting her golden goggles back over her eyes.

“There’s the Juri I know,” he patted her shoulder.

Out from the corner of the priest’s eyes came a stranger approaching in the distance. He wore a dark brown vest over his bare-naked torso. On the side of his thigh was a large revolver the size of his entire femur, possibly even longer. The clacking of the spurs on his boots could be heard from a mile away. This pale blond stranger with his long hair hidden underneath his leather cowboy hat, approaching the two like a stalking predator.

“Heads up,” Drakul whispered, “enemy approaching, six o’clock.”

“A vampire?”

“Not sure,” he squinted his eyes. “Either way, he’s probably here for the bounty.”

“You know, I’m surprise you don’t have a price on your head, yet.”

Juri pulled out from her leather satchel a metal wrench, all new and shiny, coated like a mirror. And proceeded to forcefully chuck it right at the direction of the stranger the moment she felt they were in range. She didn’t even need to turn around to know that he had already brandished his long revolver from his holster. The crowd of people all around him instantly dispersed the moment they noticed a massive metal wrench flying in the air towards them like some sort of frisbee. Of course, the loud bang of the gun roaring in the middle of town did not help the turmoil.

Fortunately for Juri and Drakul, the bullet did not hit its mark, because the metal wrench was heavy, and it struck at dead center of the man’s face. Shattering his two front teeth the moment it made contact. Blood was spewing everywhere, squirting all over his eyes, obscuring his own vision.

Without hesitation, the girl dashed forward the short distance where the stranger was still recovering from his bleeding nose and mouth, and promptly delivered a decisive elbow thrust straight onto the center of his torso, striking right onto the diaphragm. The shockwave of the hit was strong enough to push him a far distance back to lift up the vest he wore for Juri to look inside – and there flying out of his inner pocket, clear as day was the wanted poster with her face painted on the yellow parchment.

“GET ON!” Drakul shouted from behind as both his and her horses sped towards their direction. Still slow and steady enough for Juri to grab on her saddle and gracefully climb on her vehicle. She even had enough time to pick back up the new wrench she tossed just a few moments ago.

And just like that, like a snap of the fingers, they were already on the outskirt of town accelerating away into the horizon.

“You know… that man looks kind of familiar,” Drakul commented. “I could’ve sworn I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

“Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Because you were right, Father. He’s here for my bounty, I saw the wanted poster inside his pocket. I’m relieved actually.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know… I thought – he was here through some other means. From the ‘you know what’,” She waved her right hand for Drakul to see, the hand that was clothed with a thin black leather glove.

“I see…” he looked back to the girl’s hand with a concerned expression. “Make sure you keep it wrapped up at all times. If the legend is true…”

“Legend?”

The White House, Washington DC.

At the heart of America – there in the most distinguished office in the world – sat two men of high status. One a wealthy mathematician and engineer, the other a humble man who was resting from long months of counting ballot boxes. Both of them dressed very sharply for the occasion, both in a black suit, mostly for the formalities. But the humble man was exhausted with weary eyes. He had a lot of work to do for his country, but if you ask him, he would most likely say that he had not have a night to sleep since 11 long years ago.

Regardless, the man was determined to help the mathematician, for he was a citizen in need. And that was something worth laying off the booze for one afternoon; worth getting up early in the morning to comb his grey blocky hair. All to look presentable in front of the citizen – his citizen.

“Mister President,” the mathematician shook his hand. “It is an honor, an absolute honor to be here meeting you, sir. I must say, I admire the exotic fashion choice of wearing a powdered wig. Very old school I must say.”

“It’s not a wig. That’s just my hair.”

“OH… oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you. I beg for your forgiveness.”

“Oh, no, no, think nothing of it my friend,” the President laughed. “By all means, Dr. Olsen, criticize my appearance to your heart’s content. Surely this blueberry bush growing on my face must be shocking to you, even just a little.”

“It is a bizarre… exotic color, sir. My pedestrian black hair is nothing in comparison. My beard’s certainly nowhere near as magnificent.”

“Would you believe me if I say it’s my natural hair color? The grey up here and the blue down here.”

“That’s absolutely astonishing. How is that even possible?”

“A story for another time, my friend. Come, sit. Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you, sir. I’ve quit drinking a long time ago.”

“Good, because I’m trying to stay sober, too.”

Dr. Olsen responded with a hearty chuckle.

But the smile from both men quickly faded as they got down to business. The situation was no laughing matter, otherwise Dr. Olsen wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

“How is your wife’s illness?” The President asked, locking his shimmering blue eyes with Olsen’s pair of innocent brown eyes. A pair of eyes that began breaking into tears.

“I… I don’t know what to do, Mister President. It’s been getting worse every day. All the doctors said they knew nothing of the disease… and the church…” he hesitated.

“Go on.”

“The church sent someone after my daughter, sir. She is accused of sorcery, of being a vessel for… for… the DEVIL! My sweet baby daughter. They think she… she… they think she poisoned my wife.”

“And where is your daughter right now?”

“She’s somewhere out west. Out there looking for a cure. I still receive letters from her on a biweekly basis. But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m afraid… that when I go to sleep – I would wake up burying my family.”

The President folded his arms as he leaned forward on the wooden table.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Dr. Olsen cried. “And I have no one else to turn to. No one… but you – General Graham.”

“Are you a student of history, Dr. Olsen?”

“I… may have read a few books or two.”

“When Moses took the Israelites out of Egypt, out of bondage, he parted the Red Sea as he invoked the name of God. I’m sure you know of the story.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But… are you aware of how exactly the Red Sea was parted?”

Olsen looked on with his blank expression. The President explained:

“The Lord works in mysterious ways. But that doesn’t mean the truth isn’t out there. When Moses came before Pharaoh to present him the miracles of God, Pharaoh is shown the power to turn a wooden staff into a snake. It is a power that the Pharaoh’s witchdoctors worshipping their false gods managed to replicate for a short while, before they were swallowed by the snake of God – the snake conquered by God. The first snake to appear in these ancient scriptures, in the book of Genesis, was the tempter who was cursed to crawl on its belly, wallowing in the mud. This is the power of God, the power to dominate over snakes.”

“What does any of this have to do…”

“Years ago,” the President cut him off, “long before the War. Somewhere out in the American Southwest, the Americans were negotiating with some members of the Apache tribe over a piece of land, when they spotted a peculiar hissing snake in the distance. Accounts varied widely on what the snake looked like, and how big it was. Some even claimed it wasn’t a snake at all, wondering if they all just collectively hallucinated. But all unanimously agreed that the sound of the hissing sounded suspiciously mechanical. Centuries ago, when Leif Erikson first set foot on the New World, there he purported and reported in various Icelandic Sagas the existence of a new species of snake, one he had never seen before. One so strange, so bizarre, he wasn’t even sure it was even real. Legend goes that the snake was so massive, its body could stretch beyond far into the horizon.”

“That’s… how is that possible?” Dr. Olsen asked.

“Erikson thought he witnessed the World Serpent Jörmungandr itself, the Snake of the gods. In all of these accounts, one thing remained consistent. The encounter was brief, VERY brief. Lasting no longer than a few seconds before the creature vanished into thin air. The New World certainly is no stranger to tales of mythical beasts and strange monsters. But the thing I want you to understand here, Dr. Olsen, is that the truth is out there – and I alone know the truth.”

The mathematician sat there bewildered, with his tears frozen in place. Now replacing his expression with one of confused admiration.

“What I’m about to tell you must not leave this office after you leave today. I doubt anyone will believe you anyway, but it is in your best interest to keep this to yourself. Both for national security, and for the security of your family.”

“Tulip…”

“Yes… your daughter, and your wife. Here is the truth – it was no snake. At least… not literally speaking. Do you want to know what the hissing sounded like?”

Dr. Olsen nodded. The President’s eyes remained firm, unblinking.

“It sounded… like the roaring of a train engine.”

Dr. Olsen did not know how to respond to this information. He sat there frozen in his seat, but his hands remained shaking like they were out somewhere in the snow. Anderson Olsen knew more about train technology more than anybody in this entire country. He knew very well that it was simply impossible for technology of this magnitude to exist all those centuries ago.

“Believe me, or don’t,” said the President as he began unbuttoning his shirt’s collar, “but this device, this… contraption is a thing of legend. A machine that hails from a higher plane. It is not as big as it was described in the Icelandic sagas. No… it is even bigger.”

“Wha… what?”

“Our mortal brains just cannot process it. But it is big, bigger than you can imagine or even dare dream. There is enough evidence to suggest that this thing may be as big as this entire world, or perhaps many worlds, or even beyond that. This… thing – whatever it is – holds a secret power that can change everything. A power that draws from an infinite source of higher energy – capable of miracles. For the sake of both your family, and our country.”

There where he pulled his shirt open to reveal his naked chest, glowing with a blinding green light on the top right side of the President’s pectoral muscle, just beneath his collar bone – the number 40 being printed on the surface of his skin.

Chapter Text

“You’ve known about this train all this time,” said Juri, “and you didn’t tell me?”

“I never thought there was anything to it. There wasn’t enough evidence,” Drakul began scratching his chin. “Though I suppose… the church’s older archives may have more information on the matter. But those are only available to the archbishops.”

“Wow… who would’ve thought. A source of infinite power.”

“Potentially infinite,” he corrected her.

“Either way… shouldn’t that be our new priority then? Instead of looking for a needle in a haystack, we can just bypass this whole thing entirely. I’m honestly a little sick of hunting vampires.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Drakul got off his horse.

It was just as the mechanic said, the South Train Station was here. Difficult to miss the large ticket booth and the elevated wooden platform built next to it in the middle of the desert. There were wooden benches placed there on the platform, likely for passengers waiting to catch a ride. What was peculiar however was that there were no trains in sight and nobody manning the ticket booth.

This place looked as if it hadn’t been populated in months, probably years. Which was strange because of how bustling South Falls was back the other direction.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Juri asked.

Drakul spun his head around, looking back and forth in all four directions – and nothing but endless stretches of sandy land was in sight.

“We’re looking for the train,” Drakul explained. “Or rather we’re here to confirm whether that number on your hand really means what I think it means.”

“So… the train is going to show up because I have this number?”

“No. If anything it won’t show up.”

“Why?”

“Because if that number really is what I think it is, then that means – we are already on the train.”

Juri sat there on her horse, pulling off her goggles to look at the priest in her dumbfounded eyes. Letting out a sharp cry:

“What?”

8 hours later…

“57,892 bottles of rum on the wall… 57,892 bottles of rum. Take one down… pass it around… give me a bottle of beer on the wall…”

“Want a drink?” Drakul wiped his lips as he held up a bottle in his hand, halfway empty.

“No.”

“Can’t handle your liquor, eh? Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, a pampered princess…”

“I swear I will shoot you in the face if you finish that sentence.”

“That’ll be a sight to see, you hitting anything with a gun,” Drakul laughed.

“I hate that you’re right,” Juri chuckled, pushing the priest off the wooden platform for him to faceplant onto the old rusty railroad. “How much longer are we going to wait?”

“Look at the schedule,” Drakul pointed to a piece of paper printed on the side of the ticket booth. “Says there the next train will arrive at 11 in the morning. And that ain’t no schedule printed out years ago either. That’s fresh, just posted there not long ago.”

“Then why’s there nobody here?”

“Beats me. Maybe they went home early,” Drakul shrugged. “What I do know is that if the train doesn’t show up by 11 in the morning, then we have our confirmation.”

Juri began shaking her right hand, bored out of her mind. Twisting her fingers into weird positions and hand signs to see if anything would magically appear out of thin air. She even tried finger gunning a cactus nearby to see if it would explode into a thousand pieces. When that didn’t work, she tried setting it on fire with her mind, gritting her teeth vigorously.

“So what exactly does this number here mean?” Juri asked, still waving her hand around.

“Don’t know.”

“Then how do you even know about the train?”

“My father used to tell me these stories when I was a kid. We all knew about the legend of the snakes, but nobody really knew that it was really a train.”

“How did he know about it?”

“Don’t know.”

“How come you don’t have a number?”

“Maybe because I’m a priest?”

“Ha, good one.”

2 hours later…

Being bored to death was a fate Juri desperately tried not to meet, but there wasn’t much they could do outside waiting. She had already gotten bored with tinkering her horse, her gadgets, and her bear traps. There wasn’t much else to do so taking a little nap seemed like a good idea at the time.

Big emphasis on ‘at the time’ in retrospect.

Drakul was still asleep when Juri woke up; fortunately, they didn’t really need to take shifts and keep watch because Juri programmed her horse to make some noise and movement once a foreign entity approached them within a 30-yard radius. So essentially a makeshift alarm clock. The plasma cores inside the horse even worked as a heat and light source, effectively eliminating the need to build a campfire.

But what was disturbing to her was seeing far in the distance a figure approaching their campsite, walking from the railroad far away. It was too dark to make out the details, all of it seemed like a blurry black blob. But no doubt, it was a person, and with every step the jingle of the spurs on their boots could be heard growing louder.

Juri even tried rubbing her eyes to clear them of all the dust and sand she got from her nap. And yet when she looked back up to the empty railroad, the figure was still walking towards the two of them.

“Father, Father,” Juri nudged the priest. “Wake up!”

“Oh… yes… baby, show me the goods,” Drakul mumbled in his sleep.

“Wake your ass up, you pervert!” Cried Juri as she kicked his rear.

“OW! Alright, alright, I’m up, I’m up! What’s happening.”

“Enemy approaching, 12 o’clock.”

“12?” Drakul raised an eyebrow, “what are you talking about? There’s somebody coming from over there,” he pointed his finger in the opposite direction where Juri was looking.

And lo and behold, Drakul was right, there was indeed another shadowy figure approaching from afar. Trailing the railroad, with every step jingling their spurs.

But that did not mean Juri was wrong about what she saw. Because the moment she spun her head around again, the same figure she saw earlier was still there, walking towards them.

There were two of them…

“Vampires, most likely,” Drakul said, as he instantly conjured up his minigun. But was unsure which of the two figures to target.

“I’ll take the one in front there,” said Juri, rummaging through her gears and pockets. “You cover my back. How’s that sound?”

“That… might not be enough I’m afraid,” Drakul pointed his finger to his right.

And to Juri’s shock – was yet again another shadowy figure approaching the two of them.

Instinctively she spun her head to her left in the opposite direction on a gut feeling, and it turned out her gut was indeed correct – when she spotted in the distance just over the wooden platform a fourth shadowy figure.

They were cornered from all four directions. This must have been an ambush, Juri thought. Wondering to herself if she should’ve spent the effort to tear down all those wanted posters throughout their journey. So far, she and Father Drakul had been able to make do, eliminating one assassin at a time. But when facing a group as big as this in the middle of the night, they began to wonder if they could make out of this alive.

“Remember,” Drakul spun his head around as he started to sweat, “keep your hand covered.”

“I got it, I got it. Where did my deck of cards go?”

“Did you leave it in your toolbox again?”

“Maybe.”

Juri darted off to her horse, opening up the lid of the box mounted on the side of her saddle, and just as he predicted – swimming underneath a pile of screws and cogs was her deck of cards, tied together with a small rubber band.

“I should’ve sharpened these a little more,” she mumbled to herself.

LOOK DOWN.

Something strange echoed by Juri’s ears, prompting her to glance down her feet. Scanning the dark dirt and the mechanical hooves of her horse. She spun her head around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Did you say something?” Juri turned back to Drakul.

“What?”

“Just now. Did you just say something?”

“No? GET ON the goddamn horse, Van Helsing!”

Father Drakul rarely shouted when he was sober, so it was quite tense to see him on edge like this with the enemy surrounding them. Juri of course had no intention of angering him any longer so she did as he said. Hopping on her saddle, while brandishing the cards in the palms of her hands, and immediately slipping them into her green sleeves.

“Okay, boy,” Juri whispered to the horse, grabbing the leash, “LET’S GO!”

The plasma cores inside instantly lit up like a luscious blue moon, sparkling with powerful electrical energy. Enough for the eyes of the steed to light up a path in front of them, and for its snout to violently exhale through its steam valve. The power and speed of this contraption was unlike anything on the planet. Apparently some German nutjob of an engineer Karl Benz somewhere on the other side of the globe was working on early models of what he referred to as an automobile. Juri read about it in one of the British newspapers her father brought over once after an oversea trip, but she doubted the power of such a machine could be a match for the plasma cores of this animal.

Because the roaring of the engine deep inside was nothing short of breathtaking. Brimming with energy so potent one could feasibly mistake it for life energy – that of a living breathing creature made of flesh and blood.

And yet, the power of the steam valves and the crackling electricity did not sway the shadowy figure in front of Juri. Approaching closer, she could make out the silhouette of a well-built man. One who was peculiarly familiar for some reason.

And that was when she realized – there on his hip was the holster holding that impossibly long revolver. A revolver that was already magically conjured into the palm of his hand, already aiming straight towards the horse racing towards him.

Juri, of course, did not even wait for the man to pull the trigger for her to start winding up her arm, with three cards slotted between her fingers, before flicking violently in the direction of where he stood.

“TADA!” She cried fiercely, as the razor-sharp cards spun in midair, guided by the powerful windy vortex it created with the magic of centrifugal force. There in the center of each three cards – an ace of diamonds, a two of hearts, and a seven of spades – all beginning to glow with the crackling of electrical discharge. Shining above the thin but firm polymer layer woven together in a way only Juri knew how. One slice of this could potentially cut a finger clean off.

And yet, despite that power…

None of the three cards made contact with their target.

Instead, they were inexplicably stopped dead it their paths, floating in midair. As if lodged on a hard, flat surface of some kind. And that was the moment Juri pulled her horse back in absolute shock, and upon closer inspection of where the cards landed – she noticed there, on the edges where they were stuck on, were cracks forming in midair like that on a glass surface.

And that was when the revelation hit her like a wagon, the moment the shadowy figure came into full view to reveal that same familiar face – the assassin with the brown vest worn over his bare chest.

Juri swiftly turned her horse around to speed right off into the opposite direction where she came from. Muttering under her breath:

“Son of a… bastard stole my trick!”

To her dismay, the priest had his attention directed to the figure approaching him to his left, instead of the one on the right and the one far down the railroad, coming at him straight ahead with his long revolver ready to fire.

“FATHER!” Juri shouted from afar, “WATCH OUT! It’s the mirror trick! Enemy coming straight ahead, 12 o’clock!”

Drakul revved up his gun, beginning to panic. Yet his trust in Juri remained strong – thus, he diverted his attention back to the one assassin aiming his revolver at the priest, locking the two of them in a standoff. It was that moment when Drakul finally realized the reason why this man was so familiar to him when they first met back in that town.

“You… you’re a priest!” Drakul cried.

Just as the loud bang of the revolver echoed across the night, and the roaring of the minigun tore through the silence. Burning with holy righteous bullet fire.

The rain of holy projectiles knocked the revolver off the assassin’s hand, as the rest of the rounds began piercing his skin. Eventually melting the flesh off the bones of his right arm. The smell of cooked flesh and burning blood was overwhelming as it burst open from his innards and his veins like a punctured barrel of wine.

And yet, despite the devastating damage, it was still a shocking scene for Juri to see, Drakul missing his shots, not finishing the assassin off in one swift motion. And it was easy to see why once Juri noticed the big gaping wound bursting forth from his right shoulder. It must have thrown off his aim. What was alarming however was the size of the wound. A hole that big caused by a bullet from handgun? Was the revolver firing sniper rifle rounds? Was that the reason why its barrel was so long?

“Are you alright?” Juri arrived, sliding a couple more cards in between her fingers.

“Yeah… just a flesh wound.”

“That’s the guy we saw earlier in South Falls, the one who tried to kill us,” Juri pointed her finger.

“I’ve definitely seen him before in our church. I don’t know his name, but I know he’s a priest. I just couldn’t recognize him without his robe.”

Then, as if by some miracles, the revolver that was knocked down to the ground off the assassin’s right hand had instantaneously reappeared back on his one remaining hand. There was no doubt about it anymore. He really was a priest, and that was his holy weapon of choice.

“Heads up, two more enemies approaching on the side. There’s three of them in total.”

“What? No, Father. There’s only two of them. That bastard there pulled the mirror trick I used a while back. It was dark, so I didn’t notice the mirror at first when I was running towards it.”

“No, no. You don’t understand… the other two – the ones approaching on our sides, they’re not humans, they’re vampires.”

Juri’s eyes began to light up with a mix of enthusiastic bloodlust and caution. Putting two and two together, she understood that since the vampires didn’t have reflections, the only one who could’ve pulled off the trick was the human priest assassin himself.

But why would a priest of all people team up with two monsters? The demons, the spawns of the Devil no less.

There was little time for Juri to ponder these questions on the account of the assassin already having his finger on the trigger of his gun, while Drakul was still struggling to his feet from the injury, struggling to realign the aim of his minigun back on the enemy priest. Which was why she was quick to act, and swift with her fingers.

Before the assassin could even fire off his shot, the flesh and skin of his forearm was cruelly met with the razor-sharp edge of the electrifying plasma cards, which then proceeded to instantly fry the nerves and veins underneath his arm, thus throwing off his aim. He didn’t even see Juri move, much less throw the cards. The man was indeed thoroughly bested, and he didn’t even have time to process this loss before Drakul swiftly rent the remaining flesh off his skeleton. Tearing the skin and muscle fibers one by one with the furious burning storm of bullets.

And before long – there was nothing that remained but a silent melted corpse.

Still not finished.

For over yonder on the two sides came the two pale skin monsters dashing at a demonic speed towards Juri and Drakul. Upon closer inspection, Juri came to an important realization about the nature of this enemy.

And that was the fact that this wasn’t two enemies at all, like Drakul had said. No, the two of them looked absolutely identical. The truth was this was one singular vampire who, by some power neither Juri nor Drakul fully understood, had split himself into two separate bodies, effectively making a clone of himself. This was a known ability of the vampire race, Juri had dealt with this before. And it was incredibly annoying, depending on the skill and strength of the individual vampire.

So only one option for offense remained, as she could not let herself and Drakul be surrounded, what she would then need to do was charge straight ahead with her horse and immediately eliminate one of them, ramming into the monster like a battering ram. And that was exactly what she was about to do if not for a peculiar sound echoing by the side of her ears once more.

LOOK DOWN.

In just a singular moment of distraction, Juri lowered her head to glance down beneath her horse to see there the peculiar inscription of that bizarre phrase being inexplicably printed on the ground in a green glowing ink – the exact same green glow of the number on her palm.

A sudden whooshing noise then inexplicably passed above her head, like a razor-sharp knife barely slicing off the tip of her hat as if it were slicing butter. Something had just jumped over her head. A machine? An animal?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t very big itself. No larger than a small dog, and yet it was as swift as the wind. So fast in fact, Juri didn’t even notice the two monsters already lying unconscious on the ground, both apparently not breathing anymore. But more importantly were the two strange rectangular holes that seemed to have magically appeared on both of the vampires’ skull, dead center of their foreheads. No black blood was oozing out on either of these holes, and both looked to have been carved out a little too perfect. As if it was shaped by a factory-made mold of some kind, or at least very meticulously measured beforehand.

“What in God’s name just happened?” Drakul cried, still reeling from his wound.

And swiftly, the question was answered by a strange soft voice of a woman:

“A little show of gratitude would be nice… Kitten.”

Both Juri and Drakul spun their heads to their left, just a few yards away from the vampire’s two corpses. The voice was oddly soothing, and yet there was this sharp quality beneath it that made it hard to fully comprehend, difficult to tell if the source of the voice was that of a friend or foe.

All they saw before them was this small cat with white fur and striking yellow eyes. The strangest thing about this creature, however, was the fact that it was wearing a dark blue vest with a red tie around its neck. But even more disturbing was the smile it wore on its devilish expression.

“A… cat?” Drakul looked on, squinting his eyes.

“It is THE Cat to you, thank you very much,” she introduced herself, to both Juri’s and Drakul’s shock.

“What in the world…”

“I’ve finally found you, Kitten,” she meowed. “Where have you been all this time, Lake?”

“Who?”

“What did you do to the vampire?” Drakul cried. “Who are you?”

“Wait a minute…” the Cat squinted her eyes, before dashing towards the girl at an amazing speed.

Before Juri realized it, her hat was blown off the top off her head and her goggles were snatched away, revealing her bright green eyes. The Cat was all over her face, stretching out Juri’s eyelids with her fluffy little paws, poking at the skin on her face, before pulling out Juri’s tongue to look inside her mouth.

“What the… you’re not Lake!” The Cat hissed. “But you look just like her. Oh my, c'est intéressant…”

“Ow, ow, claws, claws, get off of me you weirdo!” Juri pushed the Cat onto the ground.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Drakul revved up his gun, “you better start talking now or so help me God, I will turn you into a fine red mist.”

“WHOA, WHOA,” the Cat raised her paws up in surrender, “easy there, Reverend Trigger Finger. I shan’t waste any more of your time. I’ll talk, I’ll talk! That girl there with you, she looks exactly like someone I’m looking for. Her name is Lake, she has gorgeous hair so shiny you could see your own reflection in them. Here, I even have a photo of her.”

The Cat pulled out a large wooden framed picture from the inside of her vest. The photo frame was bulky and quite large, making Juri wonder how she managed to fit it inside her little pocket.

The picture was quite old, with a few burned edges here and there, but somehow surprisingly modern and high tech by the mere fact that it was in color. Juri thought it was a painting at first, but upon closer inspection she realized that it was in fact a photograph – one of a young girl in a simple plain black dress standing bare feet over a grassy hill with her beautiful locks of hair flowing with the wind.

Juri realized what the Cat said was true. The girl bore a striking resemblance to Juri herself, in both physique and facial features. There were minor differences here and there that would be apparent if one were to look closely, but it wouldn’t be farfetched for ordinary people to mistake the two of them for twins.

The only major difference, and the most striking one, was the fact that the girl’s skin and hair looked as if they were coated in a thin layer of chrome, or perhaps silver, making her facial features seem almost metallic. The Cat must be colorblind, Juri thought to herself, otherwise she would’ve been able to tell immediately that the hair color was different.

“I don’t remember anybody else in my life,” said the Cat, “that’s why I want to find this girl. She’s the only person I remember. That means she must be the puzzle I need to solve to uncover my past.”

“Who… what are you?”

The Cat explained:

“All I know… is that I am a citizen of something called the Infinity Train.”

A bolt of lightning struck both Juri’s and Drakul’s nerves the moment they heard the term. One step closer to the truth of this mystery, they both told themselves in their guts. The Cat continued:

“I don’t remember much, but all I know is that it is a place where people go to sort out their problems. Either personal problems, psychological problems, and so on… or so the legend says, I am not entirely sure anymore. I’m not sure what to believe. So many things are just… a blur. And the only exception is the memory of this girl in the photo. I don’t know who she is, but she shows up in my Dreams. She never speaks, but she is there, always a constant.”

“Are we… on the train?” Drakul asked, putting his minigun away.

“Don’t know,” the Cat shrugged. “It’s hard to tell these days. The train would often be attended by the Conductor, making it obvious if one were already onboard. But nowadays the Conductor has been awfully quiet. Nobody’s seen him around anymore. One thing led to another, and here I am. Your facial features do intrigue me, Kitten. I couldn’t possibly let such a cute face be clawed out by these hideous vampires, these abominations or whatever they are.”

“I still don’t understand what you did to the vampire,” Juri pointed her finger. “Why are there these rectangular holes on his foreheads?”

“It’s a special skill I have, Kitten. I can take video tapes out people’s minds. Doesn’t work on dead people, though.”

“What the hell are video tapes?” Drakul asked.

“Oh, that’s right, it was before your time,” said the Cat. “It’s a series of moving pictures. I’m kind of spoiling the future a little here, but that’s going to be the next evolution of the camera. Be on the lookout for that. Anyway, my special ability allows me to take out these tapes,” she held up a thin rectangular black cube of some kind for them to see, “they represent a person’s memories. That vampire monster over there for example, his name is Jason McCarthy, says so right here on the tape. Every passenger on the Infinity Train has a number, and that number grants people unique abilities. Citizens of the train like myself don’t have numbers, however. So I had to steal one from a passenger.”

“Unique abilities… you say…” Juri pulled off the glove covering her right hand, letting her idle number 40 glow in the darkness of the night. “You mean this number?”

The Cat’s eyes lit up.

“Yes,” she said. “It appears you have an ability, as well.” She then pointed her paw towards the dirt underneath Juri’s horse, where the glowing phrase ‘LOOK DOWN’ still remained.

“I… made that?” Juri asked.

“You may have activated your ability subconsciously without realizing it, Kitten. Not to worry, it’s very common for passengers to feel a little disoriented. But this is good, because this is confirmation. We are definitely aboard the Infinity Train.”

“What about Father Drakul? Why doesn’t he have a number?”

“And the human assassin over there,” said Drakul, “alongside the vampire. What about them?”

“Huh…” the Cat scratched her chin, “I… do not know. That is very strange, indeed. I’m sure we can find out the truth about the matter, though.”

“We?”

“Yeah, don’t you want to team up on this little… adventure?” The Cat grinned, “You have my interest, Kitten. Your resemblance to the girl I seek is something I simply cannot ignore. And I’ll get to the bottom of it even if I have to stalk you to the edge of the world. So we might as well travel togeth… what on earth is this thing on my legs?”

The Cat didn’t even notice the massive bear trap strapping around her ankles as she mused on. Though the contraption was a lot less like that of the traditional bear trap, rather it was a modified version meant to restrain rather than pierce the flesh with any spikes.

Once the mouth of the trap closed, a human target would be locked down as if they were being cuffed. The trap was usually made for a human sized ankle. But in this case, it was still strong enough to hold all of the Cat’s limbs in her place, preventing her from even fidgeting ever so slightly.

“You really think we’re just going to let you freely join us on our journey after you told us about your ability to take people’s memories?” Juri miraculously appeared behind the Cat, casting a tall shadow over her.

“How did you…” the Cat glanced back and forth, “I didn’t even hear any footsteps.”

“You’re going to have to earn our trust before I even consider letting you out of this trap. So buckle up little lady, we’re going for a ride. I hear there’s a nice pet shop in the next town. Maybe even a barn somewhere, makes no difference really. As long as they can… ‘babysit’ a kitty.”

“Hey, come on now,” the Cat laughed nervously, “that’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“She’s just messing with you, Cat,” said Drakul, “obviously you have experience with this so-called Infinity Train, so we’re going to need you around to guide us through this. She’s not going to follow through with that threat… probably.”

Drakul took out a flask of whiskey from his inner pocket, opened the cap off with his teeth and proceeded to pour it all over the wound on his shoulder, he of course did not hesitate to take a sip himself. All while the Cat trembled within the trap as she watched, anxious to see what these two bizarre travelers would do to her next.

Chapter Text

“Good evening, Dr. Olsen.”

“Mister President,” Olsen wiped his hand off on his apron, “what timing. How was your trip?”

“It was fine,” the President shook his hand. “My wife Julia sends her regards. Is Jesse around? I want to see him.”

“Oh, yes. He’s in the back,” Dr. Olsen walked through his garage, stepping over piles and piles of schematics and toolboxes laid out on the ground to reach the door on the other side. “JESSE! Come on out, your father is here to see you.”

Shortly after that, a young sharp looking man stepped out of the door and into the garage where Dr. Olsen worked. He had dark brown hair and a smooth olive complexion. His youthful bright black eyes shimmered with enthusiastic will to work, with his upper left eyelid stained by some kind of dark oil, likely from the work he was doing alongside Dr. Olsen. Which would become apparent upon seeing his dirty brown apron and his heavy black rubber gloves.

“Father,” Jesse blurted out, “you’re here!”

“It’s good to see you my boy,” the two of them immediately embraced one another, despite Jesse’s dirty apparel staining the President’s purple double breasted long overcoat, with dark violet checkered patterns on his collar. It most certainly ruined the texture and exotic color, and yet the President did not seem to mind.

“I’m glad to see you too, father. And I see you’ve finally met Dr. Olsen.”

“Doctor?” The President raised his eyebrow. “He’s your father-in-law, boy. Why are you so formal?”

“Well, Dr. Olsen has been good to me. Very good, indeed. But… he’s not my father-in-law, yet.”

The President nodded his head:

“I understand. All the more reason for us to finish our mission here as swift and efficiently as we can.”

“Right on, Mister President. You’re just in time to help me test out our latest invention.”

“Before that, though,” Jesse tapped Dr. Olsen’s shoulder, “I’d like to have a word with my father about something first. There’s something I’d lik…”

2 days later…

“FATHER! Hand me the gun!” Jesse shouted, hiding behind the massive boulder as flaming arrows flew by furiously, barely missing the young man.

But the President sat there stunned, staring at his own two hands as his blurry eyes struggled to readjust to the situation at hand. His ears were ringing with a strong buzzing noise that deafened his mind, numbing his thoughts.

Because deep down he knew that both he and his son were just elsewhere away from this heated battlefield mere seconds ago. He did not understand how either of them ended up here, and how he had vague memories of events in the last couple of days. What was more troubling was the fact that Jesse was out of his work apron, now dressing in his usual outfit. A silky yellow shirt with a silver belt holding up his striking sea blue jeans, accompanied by a pair of tall white boots and a pair of long white gloves. On his head was a brown rawhide cowboy hat with a silver butterfly badge pinned at the center of the leather strap.

Glancing over the boulder he was hiding behind, the President witnessed a sight he did not believe to be real at first – a scene of Native American Elephant tribal men launching spears and arrows. Yes, you heard it right, this was a tribe consisting of people who looked suspiciously like that of sentient elephants standing on two legs. Standing at a whopping seven feet tall average, with bulky legs resembling like that of a large old tree trunk.

The Elephants wore peculiar clothing, ones that the President recognized as that of the various Apache tribes. Many animal hide garment, brown shirts, leather belts. Some of the more cavalier warriors went with their bare chest, showing off red war paint, many symbols that danced on the surface of their skin.

Most disturbing of all however were the Elephants’ hands – they were that of a human’s hand. Sure, they were much bulkier and greyish in color. But there was no doubt about it, these Elephants had five fingers on each hand, and most importantly of all were opposable thumbs.

These tribesmen were not happy, and they were directing their displeasure at both the President and his son, Jesse.

“FATHER!” Jesse shouted, “The gun!”

There lying on the President’s left foot was a small revolver with a couple of rounds spilled out on the ground. It was still in perfect condition, and the President vaguely remembered there still being a couple shots left inside the chamber. The Elephant tribesmen were closing in, and their spears were getting closer and closer. It would’ve been easy to just toss the revolver over to his son, who was just an arm’s length away.

And yet…

Far in the distance behind a large cactus to their right were two horses, one with brown fur and some white spots, the other a white stallion with a distinct black mane. There were saddles on the two animals as well, which suggested to the President that those were their horses. It was too large a coincidence to be someone else’s, plus he also had vague memories of riding into this site on top of the two steeds.

So with a decisive motion, the President leapt up from where he was hiding from, and grabbed onto his son’s arm to pull him forth to the direction of the horses.

“Father!”

“Follow me, boy,” he shouted back, “the gun was broken, can’t use it. We need to get out of here, now!”

The two of them darted off into the distance, dodging the spears and arrows as much as they could. But there was something deep inside the President’s heart that he could not understand, something that was urging him forward towards certain directions as he was running. Prompting him to wiggle slightly to the left one moment, then again to the right another.

He didn’t really understand what it was, the low rumbling noise growled deep inside his body as his heart beat like war drums. But he suspected it had much to do with the green glowing light barely peeking out of his shirt, just below his neck, hovering over the upper right side of his chest. The light was glowing bright, perhaps telling him something? Or was he just imagining it?

He knew however that whatever it was, it helped him to dodge the incoming projectiles with an eerie accuracy. Almost as if Destiny herself was on his side.

“Get on!” Said the President as the two of them grabbed on the saddle, speeding off into the far distance shortly after.

“It’s not over yet, father,” said Jesse, looking behind as they rode. “They’re hot on our tails.”

“Don’t look back, boy! Keep going!”

And the President immediately realized that this was something much easier said than done.

“Father…”

When the President turned his head around, he was horrified by the sight of an arrow piercing through his son’s chest, blood spurting out like that of an old geyser and staining the yellow silk of his shirt.

A million thoughts began rushing through his heads, calculating every possible outcome there could be while trying out different solutions and scenarios in his head. Leap out of his own horse to catch the dying body? He would surely perish as well. Ride on forward leaving him behind like a heartless coward? Pull the body along with some rope? If only he had some on hand at the moment. Many, many more scenarios, but none seemed to be viable. And for what seemed like the first time in years, maybe even decades – the President began to panic.

The panic that gradually transformed into anxious confusion as Jesse’s entire body inexplicably melted into the flesh of the horse. The President rubbed his eyes, initially thinking that was merely the boy slowly falling off his horse, falling over to the other side where the horse’s body obscured his vision.

But as they went on, he eventually realized it wasn’t the case at all. Jesse was in fact literally melting into the horse, and the President wasn’t seeing things. The two merged slowly with one another as if Jesse’s entire body were made of some sort of strange liquid.

Slowly, but surely, his body made its way through the innards of the horse, pulled down by the force of gravity. Soon he will fall off from his ride once he reached the other side.

“Hold on, boy! I’ve got you,” the President cried as he reached out his hand to catch his son, forcefully pulling him out of the horse and onto his lap.

Once Jesse made it out to the other side, it was clear that something about him was off – as the spot where his arrow wound was supposed to be was nowhere to be found.

The young man’s chest was smooth as a baby with no hint of a scar anywhere. Including his yellow shirt which remained absolutely unharmed as if it was fresh off the tailor. The President even flipped his son over to the other side to inspect his chest – same thing there as well, no wound, no scar. And to his surprise, Jesse had absolutely no idea what happened, too. Shuffling about, trying to find any trace of blood or even the arrow.

Nothing.

“Father… what is going on?”

Sweat began dripping off the President’s forehead as a gut feeling kicked up inside, prompting him to turn his head around to Jesse’s horse. Only to catch sight of the animal’s neck being pierced by a long bloody arrow that burst open its vein, with a geyser of blood pouring forth like a fountain.

It was the exact same arrow that was lodged deep in Jesse’s chest just mere moments ago.

Both the President and Jesse sat there on their one remaining horse as they stared back behind them to see the wounded horse tripping and stumbling to the ground. Kicking up a storm of blinding dust that immediately halted the advance of the Elephants. The two of them were no longer being chased, and they were a good safe distance away from the range of their spears.

And yet their sweat continued to gush out of their faces.

They sat there in silence, not knowing what to say, or how to even process what just happened. And yet… as it was always the case with the President, another gut feeling began to surface, some semblance of sanity in the middle of this sea of madness.

“Jesse… show me your hand. Your right hand.”

The young man looked confused for a second, before instinctively obliging. Taking off his white glove.

To then reveal underneath, clear as day, the green glowing number 31.

“Father… what is this?”

The President’s face hardened up, as his shimmering unblinking blue eyes looked forward in the distance. The eyes of cold determined steel, certain of what was going on.

“Jesse… there is much you need to know…”

11 years ago, September 1861…

“Mrs. Julia Cosay…” Dr. Olsen stood in front of the lit fireplace, wearing the nicest black suit he owned to take the woman’s hand in his own, comforting the crying widow, “… my condolences…”

The quiet melancholy whispers continued to echo on down the long narrow hallway where a lone young boy stood staring out the window into the night. The stars seemed black and cold tonight, covered behind dark clouds of heavy rain crying onto the vast endless field in their backyard. He had taken his black jacket off and unbuttoned his tie, feeling a little stuffy after a long exhausting day.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” a soft voice entered the room, making the boy turn his head.

Standing by the wooden staircase was a girl, no older than the boy himself. Wearing on her a simple black dress with long white stockings, and a black bow around her waist. She looked at the boy with her innocent green eyes, shining brightly despite the dark clouds outside covering up the moon.

“Your father…” she said, fiddling with her fingers, trying to find the right words, “he was… a good lieutenant. A good soldier… I… um…”

“Thank you,” the boy forced on a sad smile, “you don’t have to… you don’t… have to…”

The girl shyly took a step back into the shadow, about to leave the boy alone to himself. Only for him to then turn away from the window and towards the girl, asking her:

“What’s your name?”

She glanced at him, almost surprised at this almost newfound glee that was slowly creeping up on the boy’s face. Something she thought to be impossible after what had happened. She didn’t exactly know what to do, thus she merely answered:

“Tulip… Tulip Olsen.”

The boy extended his hand towards her, offering to shake as he responded:

“I’m Jesse.”

Chapter Text

The last drop of whiskey evaporated into thin air the moment it dripped out of the flask and landed on the priest’s tongue. It barely felt like anything, and despite this gruesome heat, Father Drakul still for some reason refused to take his cumbersome robe off to cool himself. But miraculously not a single drop of sweat was dripping down his tanned skin. His forehead was as dry as a rock, too dry in fact.

And the reason for this was simple – the man was less concerned about the heat and more concerned for his sanity. The endless desert stretching into the horizon as the two horses rode endlessly was definitely taunting him with its wagging finger. Or so he thought at least.

But if Juri and Drakul were really on the train, then how come neither of them even noticed boarding it? The question tortured his mind endlessly, and yet for some reason his traveling companion didn’t seem to be the least worried.

“Aaaand that’s how you shuffle the cards around so you can pull out a seven of diamonds every single time,” said Juri as she sat on her horse backwards. There she laid out a bunch of cards on the horse’s bum as if she were setting up a game of poker. It was incredible how none of the cards slid off the metallic surface of the horse and flew all over the place.

“Hey, hey, I told you to check the map, why didn’t you do what I said? I specifically requested it.”

“You told me to do that thirty minutes ago, dumb-dumb,” said Juri, “we’re heading further east until we reach the Rocky Mountains. You’re being delirious.”

Drakul mumbled to himself, before his eyes lit up.

“Wait a minute… I thought I suggested we head down south to Nevada? To avoid tribal conflict with the natives.”

“Wait… you did?”

“I did!” He cried, only now just realizing, “I definitely did. You’re the one being delirious here.”

“No you are! Don’t you delirious me!”

“No you!”

“No, you!”

“AAAAHHHHHH!”

“UREEEEEEE”

“ENOUGH!”

The Cat hissed at the two idiots arguing as she hung off the back of Drakul’s horse, still being tied up by the bear trap Juri put her in. The bumpy ride was definitely taking a toll on her mood, and the heat was eating away at her patience. Her yellow eyes sharpened, exhausted from the chaos.

“Oh, look at that,” Juri grinned, “I forgot you were still with us.”

“Where else would I be?” She snapped back, “It’s not like I can go anywhere, not with you two dunderheads LITERALLY RIDING IN CIRCLES!”

“WHAT?”

“Look around fools! Over there is the train station where we met and where those vampires were. You two have been going around and around without even noticing.”

And lo and behold, the Cat was actually right. Over there was the ticket booth and the wooden platform they left behind long ago. Even the ashes and traces of the vampires’ remains alongside the grave of the deceased priest was still there. Fresh as if they had just left the station mere seconds ago.

“This is what you get for horsing around with your stupid cards,” Drakul pointed his finger.

“Excellent pun, Father,” said Juri, “but please, I swear to God, I really thought we were going in the right direction. It’s programmed right here on my horse,” Juri opened up a metal panel on the back of the horse’s neck to check the keypad inside. There, on the black screen of the computer was the status of the machinery she was riding on. “Oh wait, never mind, I had the horse set to following you, Father.”

“WHAT? You weren’t leading this whole time? I was just following you!”

“I’m sorry, but I swear, I was looking at the compass and it clearly said North is that way,” Juri pointed to her left. “Oh wait, no, no. That’s not right. North is the other way? What the f… why is this thing spinning around? Alright, who here has a magnet on them? It’s disrupting the compass here.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Drakul threw his hands in the air. “First we were going in a circle, and now we have a broken compass? What’s next? We all get dysentery?”

“Now, now, let’s not panic. Things aren’t so grim,” Juri smiled.

“This is it,” the Cat muttered, with her voice trembling, “I am going to die here today. In the middle of nowhere while two buffoons argue like… like… buffoons.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t be like that,” Juri clapped her hands together. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, you want to see a magic trick?”

Both Drakul and the Cat stared at her, unblinking.

As the girl proceeded to hold her right hand out horizontally, with the back of her palm facing forth. Then bent the right thumb down before attaching her other thumb, covered with her two fingers before sliding it back and forth.

The finger pulling magic trick.

There was no response from the other two outside their stone-cold poker face, blankly staring at Juri who was smiling from ear to ear like an idiot.

“Now you are all thoroughly distracted. My work here is done. Father, I need a drink, do you have anything?”

Drakul generously handed her his flask, to which Juri immediately gulped down without a second thought.

Because that second thought only came after a good few seconds or so, after a long good sip. She halted immediately, tasting something strange in the liquid which also smelled bizarre as well when she poked her nose into the flask.

“Father… what the hell is this?”

The priest stayed silent, staring at her with his poker face. To which Juri responded by lifting her goggles above her eyes.

“Did… did you just poison me? Right here? Right now?”

“I mean…” Drakul hesitated somewhat, “You didn’t really think I would forget, did you? I said I was going to kill the Devil, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Y… you’re trying to kill your traveling companion there?” The Cat stared up in disbelief. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t really have time to explain to you, little kitty,” said Drakul, “it’s a complicated relationship we have. And I don’t think you realize the magnitude of my duty, of what I have to do. The oath I took to cleanse this land, this country of evil. And at that root is the source of all things wicked, the fallen one, the former archangel, the one destined to be the enemy and Devil to all things good and…”

“… and she’s gone,” said the Cat.

“What?”

“I said she’s gone, got off her horse and skedaddled off there.”

Drakul spun his head, blinking his eyes rapidly at the sight of the empty saddle. He did not even hear any footsteps or sound of the girl getting off her ride. And yet there she was, running at max speed into the distance, with the sweat covering her entire face, dripping like a fountain of water. Whatever poison the priest fed her, it was already kicking in.

“Hey, hey, hey! What the hell, Juri?” Drakul grabbed the leash on Juri’s horse and pulled along as his own ride sped up after her, they caught up after a few seconds. “Whoa, seriously, how the hell are you running without making any sound?”

“Yeah, like I would tell you and give away my advantage,” Juri panted, somehow running nearly as fast as the two horses’ trotting. “Of all the times you choose to challenge me, it has to be now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know what poison you gave me, I could taste it. Holy acetylsalicylic acid, or holy aspirin poison. Travels through the bloodstream and sweat pores, if I don’t work it out of my system I’m going to die. And because of this stupid poison I can’t stop running.”

“Juri, where the hell are you even running?” Drakul asked.

“We’re being attacked by a train passenger, Father!” Juri snapped. “My sense of direction is out of sync. I can’t turn to where I want, and when I do turn it’s towards the direction I didn’t intend to turn to. That must be why we were just going around in circles.”

“Mon Dieu,” the Cat cried aloud at the back of Drakul’s horse. “She’s right, that is a passenger’s special ability alright, no mistake about it.”

“Time to spill the beans, Cat! How do I beat this ability?” Juri shouted, with her breath getting heavier by the second.

“The abilities are called Numbers,” the Cat explained. “And no two Numbers are ever the same. Usually the most certain way to defeat a Number is to defeat the passenger themselves.”

“That’s too vague!” Juri snapped. “Be more specific!”

“JURI, up ahead!” Drakul pointed his finger, “A cliff up ahead!”

“Shoot!”

There in front of them was a large chasm spanning miles upon miles of dead desert land. A crack in the earth, in mother nature. Where Juri was running towards was a narrow sharp edge pointing towards like an arrow, shaping into this rocky cliffside where no matter where she turned, either left or right, she would still be heading straight towards the bottom of this chasm, which looked to be a deep dark pit that stretched on to an infinity into a pitch black depth of nothingness. Falling at this height would certainly kill an ordinary human being.

“Turn around now!” Drakul urged as he slowed the horses to a screeching halt.

“I… I can’t!” She shouted.

And because she could not stop due to the poison coursing through her veins, she had no other choice – but to step off into the vast emptiness, letting herself go at the mercy of gravity, to be toyed with like a helpless doll. This wasn’t like any of her usual magical stunts or escape acts where most things were calculated and planned to be in her favor. This was a new uncharted territory, a height no man had ever attempted, higher than even when she strapped herself in a straitjacket before allowing herself to be hoisted up on a three-story building.

There in her heart was the fear, and peculiarly the craving for this new thrill.

All around her in the darkness of the cliffside were the eyes, they stared at her when she fell, unblinking with their pitch-black pupils. Even when she was already on the ground, biting the dust, struggling to even get up on her feet, the eyes on the walls continued to stare with a disturbing aura piling upon her.

How long was she out? The girl wondered. Puzzling over the bizarre fact that she was still alive somehow by some alien miracle of God. She was sure that she had fallen from a height no human could have possibly survived. So what made her special? Why was she chosen by Destiny to live on another day? Or was she merely the byproduct of something much larger than herself, something she could not possibly comprehend there and then.

Juri scrambled to her feet to dust herself off, before quickly realizing her deck of playing cards were scattered throughout all the dirt at the bottom of this deep chasm. They must have fallen out of her sleeves when she fell.

The girl was getting thirsty, more so with every passing second. This must have been the result of the poison Father Drakul fed to her. The poison was potent, one small dose could possibly even fell an entire rhinoceros. If she couldn’t find any water to rehydrate herself in the next couple hours, she would surely be biting the dust for real.

The girl did not remember much of the trip from the top to the bottom, she closed her eyes during the descent. Which all just played into this deep confusion, questioning how she survived. There were gaps in her memories… just like – before.

The girl then spun her head around trying to catch her bearings, desperately looking for a way out of this dark place. But everywhere she looked she was met with the eerie gaze of the eyes on the cliffside. They were numerous, too many to even count and they were everywhere. Each eye was slightly larger or slightly smaller than the last, and each eye was slightly more deformed and imperfect compared to each other. Some were in wide oval shapes, some were perfect circles. Others were obscured behind large rocks and cracks on these walls.

But all of them were inexplicably staring down at Juri, no matter where they were on the wall, no matter what angle, no matter how far away they were. All glaring down, converging to a single point where Juri stood.

But most horrifyingly of all, however, was when she turned around facing the opposite direction, her eyes caught a sight of a man looming over a large rock, standing just a few yards away from her, also staring at her intently.

The man’s mere presence was enough to make Juri jump backwards in a defensive manner, forcing her heart to skip a beat. It was not helped by his ghoulish appearance as well. A tall slim man with a pale complexion, who looked as if he had not seen the sun in days, if not months. The man had a very peculiar shade of blonde for his long shoulder length hair, it was so bright that one could easily mistake it for white hair. That same shade also grew rapidly and wild on his face, forming scraggly patches of beard that seemed to almost refuse to grow into a full bush, making his face look a lot more rugged and rustic.

Over his shoulders draped down a long black hooded cloak which was tattered beyond repair. And underneath that was a grey shirt with the sleeves pulled up to reveal the man’s hairy forearms. The steel spurs on his heavy boots were rusting away intensely, it almost looked as if it hadn’t been maintained for a whole decade. Which was bizarre because glancing over the man’s chest, Juri could clearly spot a golden sheriff badge pinned on the fabric of his shirt. And it looked as good as new, no degradation of any kind, no rust, not even a scratch chipping off the edge of the golden star.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” said the man, reaching his hand out, “have no fear. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Juri said with a quiet voice and a dry throat.

“My name… is Alrick – Alrick Timmens. Are you… a passenger, too? Of the train?”

A light struck inside Juri’s head the moment he made that mention. She immediately began to suspect that perhaps this man was the true culprit behind the strange Number ability she had just encountered just mere moments ago. There were still things she did not really understand, like the fact that she somehow survived the fall, which she wondered if it had anything to do with the man’s Number.

Regardless of the truth, I need to stay calm and be cautious, she told herself. If the man truly could manipulate a person’s internal sense of direction somehow, then that could be very dangerous. So she needed to get in close to deal a killing blow before he had the chance to work the Number on her again.

“My name is Juri, Juri Van Helsing. And… no, I’m not a passenger or whatever it was you just said. What was this about a train?”

Alrick’s facial expression remained the same, unresponsive to her answer.

“Forget what I said,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m trying to get out of this place. I heard a scream from afar, and decided to check it out. And here you are, saw you go face first onto the ground. Did you fall off the cliff up there by any chance?”

“Hm… yes,” she nodded her head.

“And you survived? From way up there? That’s quite the great fall there, Lucy.”

Juri chuckled:

“I’m no fallen angel, so it didn’t hurt that much to be quite honest.”

“Oh, are you a member of the church?”

Juri shook her head:

“Nope. I read the bible, went to Sunday school when I was little, and I’ve been keeping up with sabbath. But I’m not a priest. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, nothing. It’s just… I feel a lot safer with a priest by my side. I have Sanguivoriphobia you see.”

“Fear of vampires.”

“You know of it?” Alrick’s eyes lit up.

“I’ve read a few books, yeah.”

“You see all these eyes on the walls here,” he pointed his finger all around, with the other hand still clinging to his cloak. “I’m sure that at least one of these eyes here belong to a vampire, or at the very least one of them isn’t human. They haven’t stopped staring since I got here.”

“How did you get here?”

“I… I don’t quite remember. The last thing I remember was my wife Amelia and I tending to our horses on our farm. Then this massive door manifested out of thin air, with no building behind it. And here I am. I’m not even sure if we’re still in Wisconsin.”

“We’re not,” Juri said bluntly. “You’re in Oregon, just bordering on Nevada. That’s where I’m headed, just before I fell down here.”

“That’s strange… I’ve traveled so far. How did this happen?”

And there, Juri saw an opportunity to pry:

“You… mentioned a train earlier. What was that about?”

Alrick glanced back at the girl with a stone-cold unblinking gaze, seemingly trying his absolutely best to not emote, or even flinch ever so slightly.

“Not entirely sure you would believe me,” he said. “But… it’s a long story.”

“Go on,” she insisted. “I have time.”

He paused briefly.

“Well… you may think we have time, but I don’t think we do. I’ll just cover the important part. Long story short, there’s somebody around here at the bottom of this canyon with a… unique skill shall we call it? They can invert a person’s sense of direction, disorient them in strange ways.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what they want, but I have a feeling they’re following us.”

And without another moment of hesitation, within less than a blink of an eye, Alrick turned to look down his right shoulder to find a razor-sharp card stuck into his flesh. Shocked by the sudden pain he fell backwards onto his rear, screaming in agony.

Juri had just chucked a card out of her sleeves, so fast Alrick didn’t even see her move.

“Now,” Juri’s eyes darkened, just as she pulled forth in her palm a few more cards, slotted between her fingers. “I suggest you take a seat and start spilling the beans before I cut you right where you breathe.”

“AHHH, what the… what the hell!” He shouted. “What did you do that for?”

“You be quiet now!” Juri snapped. “I’m asking the question here. Now show me your right hand. Show me your Number!”

“What are you talking about? What number?”

Instantly, without giving him any room to breathe, Juri lodged another card straight onto his other shoulder. This time the card was sparkling with powerful plasma energy, crackling as the blood trickled out from his flesh. Alrick bit his own lip as he groaned and rolled around on the ground.

“I’m going to repeat this one more time. Show – me – your – hand.”

Whimpering as tears began welling up in his eyes, he pulled forth his right hand from underneath the cloak and revealed to Juri the palm of his hand. His arm and shoulder trembled immensely with the pain coursing through his veins.

But the most shocking thing to Juri was the bizarre fact that his palm was absolutely empty. There was nothing on the surface of his skin.

Where was the Number?

Juri then felt a light rustling noise rumbling behind her. Spinning her head around facing the glaring eyes on the wall – she saw it.

The eyes began to blink, ever so slowly.

As the green glowing number 15 was pasted on the rough surface of this stone wall. It traveled across the surface, over each closing eye, like that of a snail slowly crawling with endless delight and ignorant bliss.