Phantasm
The chime of the MagLev permeated the station. Various civilians filed into the sleek, protective shell of the train, given solace from the rain and lightning above, while the group made their way into their personal car, each of them choosing a place to sit. Phantasm sat alone, not really willing to make any conversation, at least for the moment. She placed her bags on the seat next to her, relieved of the weight that had been lifted. She sat near the window, looking out at the world beyond.
The train slowly accelerated away from the station, and it wasn’t long before the entire city was out of sight. Phantasm looked around at her coworkers, most of whom were taking this time to relax. She doubted that this lull of silence would be available for long, yet she knew she should take advantage of it while it lasted. Breaking free from the stupor caused by the stillness of the train’s movement, Phantasm made her way towards the civilian cars. The only items on the seat she previously occupied now being her rifle and backpack.
It won’t be long, just going to see what’s up, she told herself. She doubted any of them cared about whether or not she left the car.
The civilian cars were strangely quiet. Very few people were talking, most of them being too preoccupied with their own lives; none bothered to break their attention from their screens, earpieces, or ocular implants to notice the pale woman who wandered down the aisle. She looked upon the stoic and banal faces of the passengers, most of which were drowning in the mundanity of daily life. She pitied them, but also admired them. If she hadn’t been so capricious with her choice of occupation, it could be entirely possible that she could have been just another one of these faces, living a relatively safe, boring, normal life.
Alas, however, such was not the case.
The counter was pristine and polished, the stools neat and clean. There were few people at the counter, which Phantasm thought was even better. She sat down on a stool and ordered some sparkling water and tiramisu. Dreadfully overpriced, but this didn’t concern her now. Phantasm figured it was proper to take advantage of the amount of money she was making from this job.
The man behind the counter quickly prepared her order and went on to the next customer. He payed little attention to any of the patrons, an act which they reciprocated. It was a mutual agreement of apathy that seemed all too common in this world. However, it wasn’t any of Phantasm’s business to dwell on such topics, seeing as how she, too, benefited from such machinations.
The tiramisu was rather unremarkable; the sparkling water even more so. Perhaps it was a waste of money, but now wasn’t the time to fret about the quality of some cake and water. She finished what she had ordered, unwilling to let her money go without at least getting some value out of what she payed for. However, as she finished, it seemed that something had gone awry.
The unmistakable noise of engines came from the direction of the group’s car. Phantasm sighed deeply, putting her face in her hands, cursing to herself.
Ugh, why now?
She patted the areas of her body where her current weapons were, as a formality to make sure she didn’t misplace any of them. Sure, she didn’t have her rifle, but that wasn’t that large of a hindrance, considering the confined nature of the train.
As if it was on cue, a crowd of people rushed into the car she was in, desperate to escape the confrontation that had just begun in their adjacent car. She pushed through the influx of individuals, each one seemingly more desperate that the last, finally reaching the civi car adjacent to the one where the thugs had boarded. She glanced around at the surroundings, the vacated seats still filled with personal belongings. Yet someone remained, keeping an intense vigil on the door, preoccupied with the conflict going on in the next car. The guy looked suited up, clearly some vulture looking to take advantage of the situation. Phantasm ducked behind cover as she planned her next move.
She unbuttoned her coat, revealing the PPS Mk. 3 that was holstered on the side of her torso. She took out the gun, making sure it was at full capacity in the process. She glanced back at the fighting, noticing how it was goon vs. goon, although it seemed as if the melee was rather one-sided. The prevailing bozo was able to continue into the direct elimination round, going on to start cutting up some other guy in the process.
Throughout this scuffle, Phantasm used the brief periods of chaos to move further forward. Surprisingly, it seemed as if she went relatively unnoticed, as the assailants had to deal with an increasing number of people while their numbers thinned. Phantasm held her gun close to her, ready to use at any time. She kept remarkably calm during the ordeal, regulating her breathing as she crept up from one piece of cover to the next, managing to avoid any gunfire.
She passed both the enforcer with a missing brain and the one with a missing hand without thought regarding either of them. As far as she was concerned, they required none of her attention.
She had almost closed the gap between her and the bozo, making sure to keep out of sight of him in the process. She held her weapon tighter, her finger parallel to the trigger guard. There was the goon, hiding behind cover just a few short feet away.
“Hey, doink, where d’you think you’re going?”
