Miss Toadstool had never stepped out of the house without an escort before so it was only natural that she was sweating profusely at the train station, even if it was a particularly pleasant morning. Steam billowed out from the scarlet behemoth in front of her and she could make out the gold, curlicued lettering embossed on the side: The Handler's Express. In smaller, black letters underneath, est. 1882.

She had ridden trains before with her parents, or with a chaperone, as was expected from somebody of her status. As Peach was yet unmarried however, standing before this train, not telling anyone where she had gone, well that was quite the scandal.

All she had to do was board this train and hopefully, everything would be solved. Unbeknownst to anybody on the busy platform that morning, the source of Peach's grief and what had led her to this moment lay in her pocket. It was a telegram, only nine words long, that Peach had acquired long before her own parents were awake and she was glad for it. She knew that her parents considered her their little angel and had spoiled her throughout the years. Peach knew that the only way to protect her family was to remove herself from the equation.

At least, until she figured out what she wanted to do next. She wrapped her coat around her tightly, cast a wary eye around the platform, but nobody paid her any heed. They were too busy wrapped up in their own lives, gathering their luggage, greeting friends who had just gotten off of The Handler's Express or otherwise anxious to go someplace else.

A throng of brightly dressed men, their suits a different shade of color, with similar faces suddenly began to board the train and Peach was suddenly struck with an idea. This is my chance, she thought to herself and with one hand on her wide-brimmed hat, rushed forward to the brightly dressed men and lost herself in their crowd as they all boarded.

It proved to be a success. You see, in her haste to leave her house, Peach had only brought enough fare for a cab to take her to the train station. She lacked the sufficient funds to actually purchase a ticket. Who would have thought I'd become a stowaway? she thought grimly to herself. She had often heard of these types of delinquents and had never had any sympathy for them, whenever they were thrown off the train, mid-journey yet here she was herself. A stowaway. A thoroughly well-dressed stowaway to be sure, but still.

Once inside, the brightly dressed, slightly older men, began to disperse into their seats and Peach was left standing alone awkwardly. She went to the nearest brightly dressed man - dressed smartly in a green suit - and politely asked, "Mister..."

"Yoshi," the man cheerfully responded.

"Er, yes Mr. Yoshi," Peach said, "I was wondering if there was a restroom around here." She knew from previous experience that the ticket master would come around and ask for her ticket. Her aim was to sequester herself in a bathroom and hope he wouldn't knock the door and discover a ticketless woman.

"Never ridden on this Express, have you, young lady?" Mr. Yoshi replied. He gestured to the men that had been with him and were now sitting in various seats. "This'd be the third time we've ridden on here, so you've talked to the right man! Of course, a train as luxurious as this, might be a bit confusing to a little girl such as yourself, but you seem like you belong here."

Just point me, you old coot, Peach thought to herself, annoyed. She cast a glance at both compartment doors, hoping the ticket master wouldn't come in. She plastered a charming smile on her face. She had smiled like this to her father whenever she wanted something from her father, and hoped it would work here. "That's right. I've never been on such a luxurious train before," she lied. In truth, she always took these kinds of trains, if not even a little more expensive. "But could you kindly point me..."

"Ah, of course. It should be right behind you, outside this compartment," Mr. Yoshi said. He suddenly looked flabbergasted. "Look at me, rambling along. Being an old man I suppose, does that to you."

Peach's smile turned quick and polite and she nodded in thanks and it was everything she could do not to make a mad dash toward the direction he'd just pointed out. She began her slow, lady's walk toward the other side of the compartment, her heart yammering wildly in her chest.

There was a chance she could pull this off.

Or not.

She was more than half when suddenly she heard a stern, "Miss?"

She walked some more, making sure she was a little quicker, pretending she hadn't heard even though this voice sounded loud and authoritative. She was almost at the door, when a hand grabbed her shoulder forcing her around. She feigned outrage.

"How dare you manhandle me?" She put her hands on her hips and tried to stare down the Ticket Master, but he was at least a foot and a half taller than her. He was powerfully built as well, his biceps nearly straining against his jacket.

Still, he looked cowed by her accusation. "Need to see your ticket, Miss," the Ticket Master said, his single lone curl dropping over his forehead.

She was caught. She couldn't see a way out of this except to feign more rage. "How dare you?" she repeated again, her voice shrill. People were turning in their seats and watching the spectacle. "I've already handed in my ticket," she lied, licking her lips.

The Ticket Master looked even more apologetic. For a second, Peach thought she would get away with it. But then he said, "Sorry Miss, but I never forget a face, 'specially one as lovely as yours."

It was over. She would be cast as a stowaway and then... and then...

The note in her pocket seemed to weigh her down even more. Her parents would be ruined, and it would be all her fault. After years of coddling her, years of cherishing her, giving her everything she wanted, and she would be responsible for their downfall. She looked down, her wide-brimmed hat covering her face so that she could feel appropriately ashamed and defeated.

She took a deep breath, preparing to admit everything...

And then an arm slung around her neck in a jaunty manner and suddenly she heard a man's voice. "There you are, my little angel," he said warmly. "Thought I'd lost you for good. Is there a problem here, Kong?" The voice was too close to Peach. She felt her whole body warm up and she didn't dare look at who her rescuer was.

The Ticket Master was startled. "Is this who you were talking about? Deepest apologies to both of you, 'specially you ma'am," he said nodding to Peach.

Peach didn't question it. She simply went along, leaning into her rescuer's touch, trying to look like she was familiar with whoever this was. She tried to adopt a haughty expression on her face, though she was sure some of her fear showed on her face as well. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept," she said, turning her nose up.

The man next to her chuckled. "My fiancée can be a little high-strung, Kong."

Fiancée? Peach thought wildly. Was this the game they were playing at? She had never had a man touch her, not without a chaperone present. And yet, she surprised herself when she cooed, "Only when you're not around, darling. I simply miss you too much."

Kong bowed again. "Again, apologies. I've business to attend to, so I'll see you two alone. We hope you have a pleasant ride on our train."

Peach kept her eyes on him and didn't move an inch until Kong had passed through the opposite compartment and then slumped slightly against the man's arm, unaware of her surrounding. She was only relieved. The man next to her chuckled, which only made her realize that she had no idea who he was. She snapped out of her stupor and was on her guard again, moving away from him so that she could face him.

She was surprised at what she saw. The man was impeccably well dressed and had a handsome, if not impish face. His blue eyes looked like they were up to no good and his flaming red hair was mussed, though perhaps attractively so. It was almost like he'd messed it up on purpose. He was dressed in a suit which looked expensive, and his mouth was quirked into a half-grin as he regarded her.

He took a step closer to her. "I see what Kong meant," he murmured to her. "Even if he were a man to forget a face, I would not forget a face as beautiful as yours so readily."

Peach had been courted before many times and so she had received many compliments about her beauty. And yet, she found her face getting red. She looked down at their feet, missing out on him reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His finger was warm and strangely calloused as it traced the shell of her ear. She jerked her head up to his touch just in time to see him chuckling at her jerky movements.

"I don't appreciate your unwarranted advances, sir," she said, her voice harder than she'd intended it to be. This did not wipe the grin off his face. "Though," she added softly. "I do thank you for saving me. If there's anything I can do to repay the favor..."

His half-grin turned into a full, crooked one. "Anything?" he suggested in a sly voice. The impact of his voice and what he was suggesting, when straight to her loins. "Sounds tempting." Unconsciously, she found herself licking her lips, as his gaze turned into a smolder. "Very tempting."

And then the moment was broken when he stuffed his hands into his pocket and his demeanor suddenly shifted. It was no longer teasing, but rather just friendly. The change was so abrupt, Peach blinked, uncertain of whether she'd just imagined what had happened. "There is one thing you could do for me," he said. "I would be most helpful if you, Miss..." he trailed off, realizing he didn't know her name.

"Peach," she said, using her first name. She didn't want to tell anyone her last name. That could be dangerous.

"Miss Peach," he said, his smile widening just a fraction of a hair. "It would be most helpful if you could be another set of eyes for me. You see, I'm looking for a woman." Peach smiled uncertainly, not sure of where this would lead. "My real fiancée."

And just like that, Peach felt her insides grow cold. It was ridiculous, really. She didn't even know his name, and she had only just met him and yet... there was this cold disappointment. She had felt so unbearably alone since this morning, being on her own, not knowing what the future would hold and yet this man had come in and had given her a helping hand. It was her fault she had just latched on to him. "Your real fiancée," Peach repeated numbly. Dumbly.

It was almost as if the man had understood her deep-seated disappointment, because his smile faded a little. "Yes," he said quietly, some of the mischief erasing from his face. "She is like you, in fact. Flaxen hair, blue eyes, fair skin. A real beauty, I'm told" This did not make Peach feel any better.

"And if I see her?" she asked, trying to mask the bitterness in her tone with a smile.

"Tell her Roy Forrest is looking for her," he responded, tilting his head slightly, the side of his jawline becoming more pronounced.

"Roy Forrest?"

A flash of his old smile returned, but only just a little. "That would be my name."

"I know that," Peach couldn't help but snap. The disappointment was beginning to dissipate, now replaced by anger. How dare he flirt with her while he had a fiancée? And then to ask her to find his fiancée while he did what? Probably flirt with more blue-eyed blonde women, she thought angrily to herself. The audacity of this man! "If I see her, I shall inform her of you," she said stiffly. And inform him that he is an unfaithful man and she could do so much better.

Roy's smile widened slightly. "You are too kind."

Peach resisted rolling her eyes, smiling at him bitterly. "So I've been told."

She watched him walk away, down the compartment Kong had just gone through, seething all the while. The moment the door closed, however, she realized she was alone again.

Taking a seat by one of the windows, she gazed out, noting the sparse trees as the train slowly began to move. She reached into her pocket, finally uncrumpling the telegram that had been sitting in her pocket all the while. The telegram was only nine words long and so it had been easy to memorize, but smoothing it out and reading the words again on that piece of paper somehow seemed to grip Peach's heart in icy fear. She stared at the telegram, rereading it for the umpteenth time:

KILL OUR DAUGHTERS AND WE WILL COME AFTER YOURS