[Nepharski]

Finally, after more delays than Twilight Princess and the Election 2000 recounting combined...

The ship landed near the outskirts of the Magog Cartel. Of course, in Cartel's instruction manuals, a landing qualifies as any "Reunion" with gravity you can walk away alive from (crawling away suffices for a "Controlled crash"). Virgil was barely aware of it at the time, as Moriarty had poisoned his tea. A BigBro lifted him up and folded him into a suitcase ("With air holes this time, please"). The transport happened relatively rapidly, and more than a bit of Moolah was traded between hands.

Keeping the trains on time. Despite recent collateral damages done to the grand terminal and the disapearance of several very import heads of staff, FeeCo Depot still delivered less-than-quality transportation for rather expensive fees. Still, what could one expect in a society where every newspaper called every other newspaper "Lies and slander!" The Train moaned on. The Magog Cartel filled all the windows. It was a forboding, yet saddening sight, the city. A political hell-hole, masked over by a sociological hell-hole, which was also covered by yet more confusion. Not really much to see, for those who had seen it. Once had been more than enough.

The train clicked along, abruptly changing rails. The rail it had been traversing was generally accepted as a very-well to do rail, but the one it was now connected with was generally eyed with suspicion, and only by those who insisted that, despite what the government said, it did exist. The rail then began to descend deep into the city's underworld, where light has never shown, nor particularly wants to. Finally, the Train on the rail that "Did not exist" came to a halt in a Station of a similar nature, accompanied by a timetable board, also dubious in physical manifestation. Cargo was unloaded, and the train moved on.

***

"So...it's all taken care of, yes? Excellent. The gears are in motion, and everything is going according to our vision. Now then, you must excuse me. I must inform Winters that Virgil has arrived."

A door opened onto a room that could have sufficed as a backlot for Hell. A figure sat crouched in the corner. From the open door boomed a forboding, yet undeniably snarky, voice. "Virgil has arrived." The door closed, and all was darkness. Odd, thought the now darkened figure. Why make a point of telling me "Virgil has arrived"? I am Virgil.

To Be Continued...