So sorry for taking years to update! I haven't lost my outline and I resolved to update fics I left hanging, like this one. I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait.

Sweeper Trial (2)
Day Two

Sven woke up feeling like his head could split in two. He gritted his teeth from the pain, and instantly regretted it. His headache spiked like someone driving a nail deep into his brain.

"Damn," he groaned. "shouldn't have had so much booze last night."

The dead came to life as Sven slowly sat up in the hotel bed, fighting back the urge to hurl all over himself. Then he looked to his right, only to see crumpled blankets. "Train...? Oh...Guess he's checking out our next bounty." With that, he fell back into bed, a palm pressed over his sweaty forehead. Hangover slapped him like a bitch.

Sven guessed right. Train and Sephiria had woken up early to inspect the boards and pick out a job to pursue.

Sephiria scanned at the offers before them. "Do Sweepers really pick any bounty they please?"

Train nodded. "There's no assignment or anything. You gauge your own skillset and see if they'll be enough to take on the bad guy you choose." He turned to her with a flourish of his arm. "It's your first mission as a Sweeper, so you have the honor of choosing who we'll catch today."

Sephiria couldn't hide her brief surprise. "Oh, thank you." She peered up at the litter of posters tacked on the wall, putting a hand to her chin and studying the wanted faces intently.

Though she acted as the leader of the Numbers, she actually never had much freedom in making her own choices. Her privileges extended to tactics, strategy, and giving orders to subordinate Numbers, but hardly anything personal. A myriad of questions sprang and swirled in her head the more she stared at the faces of these criminals. Should she go for the heftiest reward? Or the lowest risk?

Train noticed her hesitation. He chuckled. "You're thinking about this too hard, Sephiria. Just go with your gut instinct."

Finally, she pointed to whichever poster hung at the top right corner. Train reached up and snagged it from the wall.

He read aloud, "Wanted for forty thousand: Dr. Richard Dunn. Former plastic surgeon. Wanted for fraud, false advertising, and numerous lawsuits from disfigured and unhappy customers. Current whereabouts unknown, last seen at Carlton three months ago, possibly armed, and on the run." Train quirked an eyebrow. "Hmm, interesting. What made you choose him?"

Sephiria shrugged but voiced no reply. Train looked over the wanted poster, amber eyes glinting with intrigue. "C'mon Sephiria, why this guy? I'm curious, and you know how cats can be with curiosity."

"It'll kill you to know."

He laughed at her retort. "I highly doubt that. Cats always land on their feet. So tell me."

She sighed and even looked a bit embarrassed when she finally replied almost in a mutter, "...For no reason at all other than he's horrendously ugly."

He burst out with a peal of incredulous laughter. "Ugliness: a crime in itself," he finally managed to say. He wiped a tear from his eye.

"You told me to go with my gut instinct," she said with a shrug.

His catlike eyes gleamed. "I like the way you think. We'll make a good Sweeper out of you yet, Sephiria."

As for executing the mission itself, Train had nothing to worry about. She may be new to the business, but she certainly wasn't new to the art of combat. This was a small issue that wouldn't even be called such given her experience. Train had a hunch that she'd work out the kinks in due time and adjust to the new life smoothly.

"Remember, Sephiria, we bring them back alive. No killing allowed. Otherwise, the playing field's wide open."

"Playing field, huh?"

"I like the thrill of the chase."

She chuckled. "Like a cat with a mouse."

The pair headed back to the motel, with Train knocking on the door to his room. "Hey Sven, Sephiria's got us a new-"

The violent sound of retching greeted and cut off Train. He and Sephiria exchanged raised eyebrows. That didn't sound good.

"Uh, Sven? You okay?" Train frowned as he slid the card through the keypad. Sephiria stayed outside while he ventured in and peeked his head through the bathroom. Sven was hunched over the sink, pale and weak-kneed. He looked up and was about to say something. Then another bout of vomiting seized him.

"You need to lay down for a bit?" Train asked.

"How about for a whole day? Too much beer did it in for me. Man, I feel like total crap."

"But we got a job to do. You have to drive."

"I don't think I can do it, Train," Sven groaned. "My stomach's killing me."

The Black Cat sighed. "That's too bad." He headed over to the room where Sephiria and Eve stayed. "Sven's really sick, so he can't drive."

"I can do it," Sephiria offered. "Drive the car, I mean."

Train quirked an eyebrow. "You sure? I've never seen you drive before. If memory serves me right, Nizer and Beluga were always the escorts when you went out for business."

"That was only protocol. I do have a driver's license, and I can get around well enough, Heartnet."

Train held up his hands. "Hey, we're partners now. No need for the formalities. Just call me plain old Train. You don't see me going around calling Sven Vollfied and Eve-" He hesitated, then said, " Well, Eve never had a surname to begin with. But since she's with Sven now, I guess I would've called them Vollfied and Vollfied. How about One-Eyed Vollfied and Princess Vollfied?" Train chuckled to himself.

"Heart-uh, Train, focus," Sephiria said. "Let's get your partner something for his stomachache, then we can be on our way."

"I like her way of thinking," Eve said as she tied ribbons to her long hair. "We'll be so much more productive and efficient with Sephiria around."

Train chuckled. "Can't disagree with you there. Sephiria always knows how to handle things. So, to the drugstore, right? Lead the way, Princess."

It took some time to drag Sven out of the motel. He stumbled out like a zombie, clearly unfit to drive the car.

Train hurtled ahead of the group. "I call shotgun!" He shouted.

Sven had no desire to sit in the passenger seat anyway. He'd rather stay close to Eve. Sephiria took the wheel and, true to her words, could drive just fine.

In the passenger seat, Train twisted around to check on his old friend. "How do you feel now, Sven? We don't want you throwing up in the car."

"I've got meds for that. I'll be fine," Sven grumbled. "Let's just catch this fraud."

"What's his story?" Eve asked.

Train draped his arm past the passenger seat. "Here's the poster, Princess. Dunn claims to be the best plastic surgeon in town. He's got the academic credentials to back it up, but not the looks." Train shrugged. "Maybe it's the cheap price he offered. Too many women fell for the sweet deal. Lawsuits came in left and right. Tons of complaints over results gone wrong. Now he's on the run from the cops."

Sephiria narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "We should expect the likelihood that he took measures to change his appearance, different from what's on the wanted poster."

"He probably changed his name too." Sven scowled. "So how the heck are we gonna find this guy? We got almost no leads."

"We can gather intel from the place where the poster claims he was last seen," Sephiria suggested. "Perhaps that'll give us more clues on where he might have gone."

Train shrugged. "Well, that's not a bad start."

Sephiria followed the GPS on the way to a town called Carlton, where the lapsed plastic surgeon was last spotted before he disappeared.

The long, monotonous drive through country roads made Train bored and restless. "Are we there yet?"

"No," Sephiria said.

Train proceeded to ask the same question every half an hour. "Are we there now?"

"No."

"How 'bout now?"

"No."

"Are we-"

Sephiria raised an eyebrow. "Ask that question again, and I'll send you flying over this cliff, Hades and all."

Train nervously laughed at her thinly veiled threat. He kept his mouth shut and didn't ask anymore.

Sephiria threw a resigned glance at the rearview mirror to meet Sven's eye. "Has he always been this obnoxious?"

"You'll get used to it."

"Hey, I'm not that horrible to be around."

"Yes, you are."

"Eve, you're not helping."

"She didn't mean it, Train," Sven said. "Don't get so butthurt."

"Well, excuse me for not being a top-class detector of sarcasm."

Sephiria only shook her head and cracked a tiny smile. Such banter wouldn't be exchanged among the Numbers. Maybe with Jenos. But the Numbers were all about business, and orders being given and followed. They didn't have time to joke around.

Train could finally put an end to the barrage of questions when they arrived. Carlton was a little dust bowl of a town. It looked like the kind of place that only had cars stopping by for gas and snacks, and passing by to reach cities and vacation spots.

Train climbed out of the passenger seat and squinted his eyes under the bright sun. "So this is where the doc was last seen. Where do we go from here?"

Sephiria locked the car. "The bar is a hub for gossip. That's why I parked here by the town's only bar. We could dig around for information there."

At the mention of a bar, Sven's face turned green. "Uh, I'll wait outside. I've had enough of booze for a whole week."

"I'll wait with Sven," Eve said. "Someone has to watch over him. I'm not old enough to be in a bar, anyway."

Train and Sephiria stepped into a bar frequented by middle-aged, rugged locals who bent either over their drinks or over the table to trade the latest news among each other. The arrival of Train and Sephiria attracted curious and suspicious glances, but only for a moment. The two sidled up to the counter so Train could order milk and Sephiria could ask for a bottle of beer. Train had to rummage through his pocket to make sure he had enough for his drink. She noticed that he did that a lot. He really seemed to live day-by-day, scraping by with the bare minimum. It was unbecoming of one who used to be among the Numbers, but she held her tongue.

"I'm surprised they have milk here," Sephiria remarked instead. "You drink that every time you go somewhere?"

"Milk's good for you," Train replied in defense. "Want me to get you one? Drink's on me. Bet it tastes way better than that." Train wrinkled his nose at the beer in her hand.

"Actually, I'm lactose intolerant."

"Well, now." That was something Train hadn't known before. And he thought he had his former superior all figured out. How many more layers of secrets did she hide under? She kept them around like layers on an onion—no, not the right image. Too inelegant. More like...a thick fur coat, with a wide brim obscuring her head and shoulders. Obscuring them from his view.

Sephiria hailed the bartender. "Excuse me, have you heard of Dr. Richard Dunn?"

"Heard of?" The red-faced port-bellied man snorted. "'Course I heard of him. Seen him, too. Used to come around here all the time."

Train dabbed the milk moustache from his upper lip and leaned forward. "What can you tell us about him?"

The bartender peered at the two with a squinted eye. "You're Sweepers, I bet. After the bounty on his head, I reckon."

"That's business for you," Train said. "Sorry if he was a friend of yours."

"He wasn't any friend of mine," the bartender replied with another snort. "The city prick only dropped by here for boots and a drink. He liked collecting boots. Liked to show them off and show how much he can afford. Why, he'd buy out a whole shoe store if he could. Dunn's got the ego of an oversized blimp. Full of stories about hooking in pretty women, like for his plastic surgeon business, and saving up for something even bigger than his precious boot collection, but I think it's all a load of bull."

"Sources say that he was last seen here three months ago," Sephiria said. "Any guess on why he was here and where he might be now?"

"Oh, he was here for the same old reason. For new boots and a drink. This was before the scandals all went down. Now he doesn't show his mug around here no more. As for where he went..." The bartender shrugged. "Beats me. That's all I can tell you."

Sephiria tipped back her neck to finish the bottle of beer. "Thank you for your help," she said.

The bartender looked between Train and Sephiria with amusement. "We've been getting a lot of Sweeper customers dropping by lately. All asking after the same thing: Dr. Dunn. I want to tell the lot of you to give up. No one's been able to nab him. Bet you two won't, either."

Train's golden eyes flashed. "You never know."

The bartender merely grunted. "What makes you any different, milk-boy?"

Clearly the man had never heard of the Black Cat. But Train didn't speak up to defend himself. Instead he left a generous tip. "Thanks again for the intel." Then he gestured to Sephiria. "We're done here. Let's head out."

Sven and Eve had been waiting at the local gift shop across the street, which didn't contain much. Sven and Eve had made numerous rounds nearly driving themselves crazy, literally, from looking at the same old boring stuff until Train and Sephiria rescued them from their boredom.

"Great, I can step outside for a smoke," Sven exclaimed.

Eve cast an apologetic look after him as he ran out. "He didn't want to leave me alone, so he stayed by my side the whole time itching for a cigarette."

"That's considerate of him," Sephiria remarked.

"That's Sven for you," Train said with a smirk. "He hates to admit it, but he's a great father figure for Eve."

The girl looked between the former Number and current Number. "Did you two find anything?"

"Only that he likes boots and beautiful women," Train said with a sigh. "Not much to go on."

Sephiria rested her chin between her thumb and index finger. "The bartender mentioned Dr. Dunn wanting to save up for something big. Whatever's considered big even for a plastic surgeon like Dr. Dunn must be quite big, indeed."

"Well, if he liked hooking in pretty women, maybe he wanted to increase his chances with an operation to enlarge his...um, assets." Train snickered at his own joke.

He fully expected Sephiria to chastise him for it. Instead she looked sharply between Train and Eve. "What about an operation to change his appearance? That could be how he has been eluding capture all this time."

"That's a good deduction," Eve said. "He would have connections. It wouldn't be hard for him to ring up a fellow plastic surgeon for a pricey favor."

"And he'd pay even more for that colleague to keep his mouth shut," Train said. Caught up in the excitement of the chase, he ran back into the bar and called for the bartender.

"Hey, sorry, one more question. Dr. Dunn, did he stop by this town alone, or did he ever come with a friend?"

The bartender screwed up his face to think for a moment. "Matter of fact, sometimes he dropped by with a gentleman who always wore a black coat and a top hat. Like he had a thing for Victorian aesthetic and whatnot. Don't know his last name. Dunn always put his buddy's drinks on his tab. First name is Oscar, I think."

Train left the bartender another tip. "Thanks, my good man. You've been more help than you know." He ran back into the gift shop to pass on the information to his fellow Sweepers.

They hopped back into the car and Sephiria drove them to the nearest city so they could access decent Internet. A few searches turned up a plastic surgeon named Dr. Oscar Worchester.

The easy search pleased Train. "Let's stop by his clinic to ask him a few questions. Maybe twist his arm a bit."

"Leave the arm twisting to me," Sephiria said.

"Don't twist it too much," Train warned. "We're Sweepers, remember."

"I didn't forget."

The Sweepers ambushed the plastic surgeon during closing hours, catching him unawares. Dr. Worchester frowned at the unexpected arrivals.

"What do you want? You don't look like you're on my list of clients."

"We're not," Sven said with feigned brightness. "We are interested in a client of yours, though. A client and a friend."

They cornered Dr. Worchester inside his office, with Sephiria taking the lead to interrogate him. She kept up the pleasant, courteous demeanor as she sat in front of his desk and he cowered behind it.

"Dr. Worchester, we don't want to hurt you. In fact, we'll reward you handsomely, even better than your colleague, if you'll be so kind to tell us what you've done to him and where he went."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he squeaked. He was a mouse of a man, from his diminutive height, large ears, and quick breathing of a nervous animal. Especially in front of the Black Cat, it took no effort to intimidate him.

Train flashed the doctor a crooked grin. "Oh, you know exactly what my friend here is talking about. Dr. Richard Dunn paid you to operate on him, didn't he? And he paid you even more to keep it under wraps."

Dr. Worchester tried very hard to puff up and look indignant. "I-I'll call the police on you for trespassing and threatening me."

Sephiria played her Chronos card. "I'm afraid that won't happen. The police aren't the ultimate authority. There are those even higher up pulling their strings. You don't want to get tangled up with them, do you?"

"She's right," Sven said with a cross of his arms. "Better fess up now, doc, while she's still playing nice."

Dr. Worchester ducked and squeaked as if Sven whacked him upside the head. "H-How do I know that you can reward me like you said you would?"

"Check your bank account." Smooth confidence laced Sephiria's voice. "You're already been rewarded."

The doctor spent a few moments on his desktop, then he gawked at the computer screen and his jaw dropped.

"Where did—How do you have this much money to give me?"

The commander of the Chronos Numbers leaned back in her seat, her authority and assurance magnifying with every passing second. "I have connections," she vaguely replied. "We don't want to hurt you now. Or yet. The same connections can take away that reward, and your practice, in an instant if you don't comply."

"Okay, fine." Nervous tremors began to overwhelm the doctor's wiry body. "Yes, Richard came up to me wanting to have his appearance altered. He paid me extra to keep it off any official medical records."

"We suspected that already," Sven snapped. "Tell us what we really need to know."

Eve spoke up for the first time, her voice ever quiet and monotonous. "What changes have you made? If they are not on record, then you have to tell us every detail."

Train held up Dr. Dunn's wanted poster and tossed it onto Dr. Worchester's desk. "Show us."

Dr. Worchester adjusted his glasses with a shaking hand as he peered down at his colleague's former face. "Well, I made his nose bridge longer and narrower. I smoothed out the cleft in his chin. I removed much of the fat around his neck and grafted his skin so it's tapered closer over his jaws."

"Basically you made him skinnier," Train said.

"Yes. As for where he went after I operated on him, I really don't know. Normally he likes driving around in a luxury car, but since he doesn't want to be found, I think he'd take a taxi."

"The luxury car would stick out too much," Train agreed.

Dr. Worchester shrank in his cushioned chair. "That's all I can tell you about Dr. Dunn. Will you leave now?"

Sephiria rose from the chair for his clients. "Yes, I believe that'll be all. Thank you for your cooperation." She stopped at the threshold of his office door to look over her shoulder. "In case it slipped your mind, Doctor, my connections will see to it that there'll be consequences if we find that you've been less than truthful."

"I-I'm not lying! I swear, I told you everything I know!"

She left him with a smile. "Good. I'm glad to hear that."

Train let out a low whistle as the Sweepers headed back to their car. "Damn, Sephiria, that was some good arm twisting. I almost forgot that being in Chronos has its perks."

"Will you come back to our side now?" She asked.

He laughed. "No way. You may have all the money and power, but it comes at the cost of freedom. I'm not buying it. Sorry, Sephiria."

She shrugged. She never held ill will against him for leaving. She was simply curious about why he was so adamant at leading this stray cat life. She had to see for herself if he truly did better without Chronos.

"I'm just glad that you didn't take out your sword and pin the guy's hand to his desk or something," Train went on.

Sephiria chuckled. "What do you take me for? I'm not a barbarian."

"I gotta admit, we wouldn't be having this big lead on Dunn if it weren't for Sephiria's ties to Chronos," Sven muttered between his cigarette. "The average Sweeper wouldn't have been in our shoes. No wonder Dunn is still at large."

"Not for long." Sephiria kept her intense gaze fixed on the road ahead of her as she drove. "We'll catch him soon enough."

They toured around every taxi stop, hoping for a glimpse of the disgraced plastic surgeon. Thanks to Eve's eyesight enhanced by nanotechnology, she could peer effortlessly through tinted windows or at long distances. She'd been quiet while concentrating, but after three hours of searching all over the city, she pointed.

"There. That man trying to signal a taxi by the park. His appearance matches Dr. Worchester's profile."

The trenchcoat and fedora couldn't completely mask a man on the run. In fact, from Train's experience, the clothing only pointed like neon lights at his futile attempt to lie low. The Sweepers exited their car and made their way on foot towards him. Dunn's slender, altered face paled and he threw out the taxi driver onto the street. He slammed on the gas pedal and zoomed away before the Sweepers could even break into a run.

The Sweepers jumped back into their car and took off hot on his trail. Train whooped and laughed. "All right, we're on to him. He can't get away from us forever." He loved that Sephiria was not above breaking traffic laws to keep up with Dunn. She sped past red lights and weaved around slower cars without signaling to change lanes. Dunn led them out of the city and into a highway paved over steep cliffs. The speedometer climbed past a hundred as Sephiria steadily closed the gap between the two cars.

Then she said, "Heartnet. Take the wheel."

"Sephiria, what are you-?"

She snatched up her sword and jumped out of the car. Right onto the back of the taxi. Gritting her teeth, she laid low and climbed her way up to the roof. She unsheathed Christ and plunged it down, straight through the windshield. A wild scream issued from inside, no doubt from Dunn scared out of his pants. The taxi careened and veered off road, with Sephiria clutching the hilt of her embedded sword with her life.

Her reflexes kicked in. Sephiria freed Christ from the taxi and sailed backwards with a spectacular leap. She landed on her feet, on the shoulder of the road, with quiet grace. Her hair disheveled and jacket ruffled from the whiplash, she looked otherwise unscathed. She sheathed her sabre and patted the dust off her jacket. She turned to see Train and the others catching up.

It all went so fast. It took Train several seconds to process what had just happened. Sven brought the car to a screeching halt and Train stormed out. His voice rang with anger. "Sephiria! How could you-"

"Relax, Train."

"Relax? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Everything's fine."

"Fine? This qualifies as fine?" Train was fuming, eyes flashing and cheeks flushed. "You just went and killed our bounty! I expected better of you, Sephiria. I figured you'd understand what you were getting into when you wanted to be a Sweeper. We never ever resort to kill-"

Fortunately the taxi had collided into the sheer rock face, not the guardrail around the edge of the cliff. Dunn's body tumbled out from the wrecked taxi. Sven ran over to inspect him. Gingerly turning the doctor over on his back, the Sweeper was surprised to hear a soft groan. Sven double-checked by feeling his pulse. He pulled off the trenchcoat and his mouth dropped open. Not even a single stab wound.

"Train, he's still alive," Sven exclaimed.

The Black Cat went from enraged to bewildered. "But how...?"

Sven leaned forward to peer through the open car door. First he saw the sword-shaped hole in the roof, then down at Dunn's shaved head. He let out a low whistle. "Missed him by a hair. Amazing."

Train returned his incredulous expression to Sephiria. "I take it you did that on purpose."

"Of course."

The Black Cat sagged in relief. "Looks like I assumed wrongly. I'm proud of you, Sephiria." Then he rubbed the back of his head and looked sheepish. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

She inclined her head at him. "Apology accepted. From your perspective, I'd imagine the blow looked quite fatal. If I slipped up, you would have all the reason to get mad at me."

He shook his head. "My outburst was uncalled for," he insisted. "When you were my commander I respected you, and I still do. But now you're my partner and fellow Sweeper, so I ought to trust you, too."

Sven grabbed Dunn by the collar of his trenchcoat. "You're done running. Come with us." Then he glanced down and smirked. "I'm surprised that you still want to walk around in country boots. That gives you away, you know." Bruised and dazed, Dunn limped along in his expensive, authentic boots with Sven.

Restored to his usual chipper mood, Train rested both hands behind his head and stared up at the night sky dreamily. "Think of the money we'll get now. We could crash at a nicer hotel and buy cartons upon cartons of milk."

Eve stuck out her bottom lip. "Are you really going to be a Sweeper for only seven days?" She asked Sephiria.

"Yes. What's wrong, Eve?"

"If you stay with us, we'll never be broke." Eve aimed an unamused, half-lidded gaze at Train. "I trust him with my life, but not with money."

Train made a sheepish laugh. "She's right to have her...um, reservations."