The cracked earth and sand flew under his feet at a surprising pace, he pumped his legs as fast as was inhumanly possible, amazed that he did not tire out at all. He had run for a great extended period of time, whatever force that leant him such endurance would not let him slow down or rest. Timber boards replaced the dirt, yet Clive barely noticed this, his heart was doing the rumba inside his chest. Only the whistle of an approaching train caused him to halt in his tracks, the narrow world he had been focussed upon widening to allow his senses to pinpoint his exact location. Clive stood on the platform of East Highland Station, hands on his knees and panting from delayed fatigue. He had made it, though it taxed him, saving valuable time.

Clive gave himself a few moments to catch his long departed breath, for he was not used to a physical strain like this before, straightening up and moving to speak to the man in the ticket booth, brushing the dust off his coat and adjusting his glasses. Hopefully, the vendor might have some idea where Ravendor had taken Kaitlyn, for the scent trail came to an abrupt halt at the platform, Clive could only conclude that they must have taken a train.

The sniper groaned, the vendor was asleep, his head on the wooden bench and dreaming peacefully. Clive reluctantly laid a hand on his green uniformed shoulder and shook him mildly, careful not to be too rough. Through light snores the vendor proclaimed his love for someone called Wendy and remained in the land of Nod, oblivious to the troubles of the universe. An idea struck Clive, he raised a hand, animating a tiny flame using one of his more basic mediums, and held it under Walker's nose, specially conjured to rapidly heat, but not to burn.

The effect was instantaneous. Emitting a loud squawk, Walker jumped up and backward, bumping his head on the ceiling of his booth and rubbing his tender nose. "Ow, ow, ow!" He moaned, gathering his bearings, "Okay, who's the pyro, and let me at 'em!" He removed his hand from his face, expecting third degree burns, but his melodrama was unjustified as his nose was only slightly reddened from the flame.

"Walker," Clive greeted without cheer, "I am sorry to have woken you, but did you serve a drifting team led by a dark-haired man today?" He waved his hand and the fire vanished from his fingers, nothing but a small wisp of smoke showing that it ever existed. The vendor went totally silent for a time, thinking and going over all that had occurred in the day. Seeing that Walker was procrastinating on his answer, Clive elaborated his query ever further. "He is wearing mostly white and probably has a child in his custody, do you remember?"

The vendor placed a finger on his chin, habitually looking up and right into a corner of his booth, it helped him think. The wheels in his head were turning slowly today, having only recently being woken up by fire did not help, though he distinctly recalled such a team asking for tickets earlier in the morning. Or was that a dream, he was not sure.

"Oh yes," Walker said, the memory gradually dawning on him, "They were here a few hours ago, that person you are talking about and two other drifters. They bought some tickets and took the 10:12 express." He centred his gaze back to Clive who was trying to hide impatience outside of the booth, drumming his fingers on the bench. Two and two were put together in his mind, and Walker became confused. "Wasn't he your brother? He said something like that… Um, and he had Kaitlyn too."

So, I am correct. They did pass this way…

"I see." Clive replied darkly, removing his hands from the bench and dropping to his sides, fists clenching. A shadow fell across his soul, like it had done so before many times since the morning, but this time, it did not go away. Clive's suppressed anger anchored it to his being, and behind his glasses, the iris of his eyes darkened to a shadowy red. He felt this, but he did not mind, it actually made him feel better, stronger, more in control. "Tell me, Walker," He accentuated the ticket vendor's name, voice becoming more ominous, "Where did they take Kaitlyn? Where did they take my daughter?"

The uniformed man ducked under his booth for a second to pull out a bright yellow binder containing all the train timetables for the entire week. He opened the folder and pages and pages of seemingly unrelated numerical values danced all over the paper in messy handwriting. It was enough to make a discalculate person scream and run off into the horizon, never to come back. Walker flipped through a great many of them, though it looked impossible to determine which piece of paper was actually the correct one. "Let's see, here… Hmm…" He hummed, going aggravatingly slow, checking over a few pages twice. "It appears that I've misplaced the timetable," He admitted with a sorry smile, shrugging. "I don't really remember where, myself, but-"

His patience wore too thin, and it finally broke. With ferocious strength, he grabbed Walker roughly by his shirt collar, ripping the man from his ticket booth, whirling around and slamming him against a thick wooden pole, the vendor's feet dangling far from the ground. The yellow binder fell off the bench from the motion and all the written paperwork spilled out of it's confines, a gentle southern breeze picking up the tables and scattering them in the air, showering the lands with numbers. Walker's hands moved to struggle with Clive's, trying to release himself from the drifter's grip. The hold was unimaginable and unwavering, he was pressed into the wood until his back hurt, wondering what had happened.

"You had best remember swiftly, human. Tell me where they have taken her!" Boomerang demanded with a voice like death, Clive briefly shifting into someone else. This entity demanded extreme respect, and despite the fact that Walker knew nothing about what was wrong with the drifter in front of him, the sheer presence of the metal demon made fear roll off him in sheets.

"I-I… err, think it was- gack!" Boomerang wasn't letting go, on the contrary, he was making it very hard for Walker to think, the glint of his glasses hiding red malice like a shroud. "D-Dune Canyon! Yes, they took the train there, I swear!" He babbled, blurting out the answer that fear drove back into his mind. Boomerang paused for a bit, sensing to see if he was lying. The pressure let up and Walker was lowered a few inches, but he was not released.

The demon considered the information, whispering something unintelligible under his breath and seeming to come to a silent decision. Boomerang looked away, at the train parked in the station, a metal monstrosity forged by human hands. "Are you positive?" He growled, "Dune Canyon is to the south? Yes," Now it looked like his was murmuring to himself, "Near the Tripillar, the land has changed, but…"

"Clive?" Walker choked, giving up on fighting and just going limp, "Put me down, please. I've told you all I know, really!"

Boomerang became confused, his brow furrowing in forced remembrance. "My name is… Clive? I think so, I am…" Startled, he released his hands and Walker fell, the vendor landing on the steps, unharmed. The demon blinked, realizing he was wearing something on his face, a pair of glasses. With astonishment, he grasped it by the frame and removed the object, transfixed. Since when had he ever needed glasses, his vision was perfect enough without them. And these clothes, he was not in Quarter Knight uniform, he was dressed like a human. Boomerang lowered his arms like his was in a light trance and looked at his hands with mild disorientation. He did not understand, this was not his body…

W-Where am I…? Why am I here? I am… supposed to be dead.

This is not my world, this is not my Filgaia…

Why am… I human?

…Luceid?

Panic filled his red eyes. Was he lost? What had happened? Whose body was this? He couldn't remember anything, just that his only companion, Luceid, was gone. And more than that, something else felt missing, a memory that had not yet transpired, he was missing a future. Where was his future? It had vanished, gone.

Luceid! I will find you, I promise! I will come back to you…

I will not let you down, my love…

Suddenly, he snapped out of it, like a rubber band being pulled and released. He stood there gaping for a moment, then remembered his manners and helped Walker up, apologising profusely. "I am so sorry! I do not know what happened- It has never occurred before." The vendor shrugged away from the drifter, fixing up his uniform that was in disarray. He rubbed his red nose again and scurried back into his booth, putting distance between the drifter and himself. After that mishap, Walker had lost all trust in the green-haired man, eyeing him warily. He had not expected that to happen, not from a naturally gentle person like Clive, at least.

The sniper held his head, another headache had come to accompany the first, appearing as soon as that other entity had left. He put his glasses back on and moaned. Yes, that was it, that impeding soul was Boomerang, the demon that shared his body. And he… his impatient anger had made him willingly offer his vessel to him for a short while, and the first thing he had done with it was lash out at another innocent soul. Damn him to Hell, why could the demon not return there?

Are you the one doing this to me, Boomerang? Clive asked, but he got no reply. Yes, he was truly going crazy, talking to himself like this. Then he had a realization of Boomerang's actions, a shock that flooded his entire system, he had given the sniper another lead. The demon had helped him, by an outlandish twist of fate, Clive had another soul assisting him to find his daughter. He wanted to laugh, but at the same time, he wanted to hit himself. Boomerang may desire to help, but Clive had to keep him under control, this was one of the forces he had feared. A dangerous one.

"Dune Canyon?" He asked nobody in particular, before addressing Walker once more, the vendor trying to recover as much of the lost timetables as possible. "I have one more question, when does the next train to Dune Canyon leave, please tell me now!" Ravendor had left on the 10:12, that was much too long ago for his liking, they were still too far ahead.

Walker rattled the papers on his desk, straightening them out noisily. He looked up at the platform and the clock propped-up on the pole therein. "That one right there is leaving for the canyon, but you're a little too late for it now…" Clive followed the vendor's gaze, the stationed train was pulling away from the platform, his only ticket leaving before his own eyes. He couldn't make it, or could he? Clive sprinted away and up the stairs, dashing for the train before it could depart. "Heeey!" Walker cried, waving an arm, "You haven't bought a ticket yet!"

"I will pay for it later!" Clive replied over his shoulder and waving back, making Walker frown unhappily. The day wasn't going too good for him, and it was only the early afternoon. He absently wondered if a nice change in careers would be in order, one that he would be able to use his brain more, instead of just sleeping all the time. Something interesting.

When he reached the end of the station, Clive still refused to give up. He lost half a second as he jumped off the platform and onto the train tracks, barely keeping up with the rumbling machine. It was picking up speed and Clive had to get aboard before it would be impossible to outrun. A demon he might have become, but even some creatures are unable to pace a train, no matter how deadly they are. He stretched his hand out for the rail at the end of the caboose, so close, and yet, so far. He was a few inches away from success. The muscles in his legs began to scream for more oxygen and Clive felt himself slow down a bit, breathing heavily and choking on the air. His mind came to one last decision and he took it, throwing everything to chance.

"Hox Pox!"

If chance would decide his fate, then Clive would give himself an unfair advantage, using the only Arcana he had that could help him in this situation. A materialized stream of confetti and stars leapt around his speeding figure and dissolved into the air, boosting his luck dramatically. This was the only hope he had left.

Please, let my luck be decent enough…

Clive raised his hand, took aim and focussed his mind, shooting his grappling iron at the carriage and praying for success. There was a clang and a scraping sound, the tool catching the handrail and remaining ensnared. With the slight manipulation of the tool, he retracted the rope and pulled himself onto the firm floor of the carriage, gasping for breath. He had done it. He was home free.

His legs gave way and he sat down cross-legged on the open miniature platform, watching East Highland Station disappear over the horizon. He smiled, glad that he had managed to get this far without any serious mishaps. "I am… getting too old for this…" He breathed, mood uplifting. Clive untangled the grappling iron from the rail and fixed it back into the metal band with a hidden compartment, strapped around his wrist. He was weaponless, but at least he still had all his tools with him, he could adapt them into makeshift weaponry if he could be creative enough. Bombs would suffice for long-ranged combat, and if a monster got to close, his pair of mighty gloves could pack a pretty big wallop, even more so now that his strength had increased. In addition, he could resort to his switchblade as well.

The door into the train was unlocked and creaked open behind the resting sniper, like an invitation to come inside. With his breath restored, Clive got back up and crept into the last carriage, wary of any other humans that might meet up with him. The corridors were empty and bare, not a soul seemed to be aboard. Clive looked into each open cabin, passing time and sating his curiosity. He didn't have anything to do until he got to the canyon, and he didn't want his mind to wander, because if it did, his guard might drop again, and…

And I may hurt someone… I don't… want to hurt people anymore…

There is no-one else around to harm… Why do you stress your mind? You should be grateful for the new abilities you have, not fearful…

… I just want Kaitlyn back, nothing more.

Do you? Are you sure that is your only desire?

Clive leaned against the doorframe, a slight bout of vertigo making him feel slightly queasy. When he resisted the power, he became sick and dizzy, fighting the demon inside hurt so badly, but when he gave in, it all went away. It felt so good… not to care…

No, you cannot change my mind! Nothing but pain and darkness comes from the demon race! I want no part of it!

Is that so? How hypocritical, do you not yet understand that you are of the demon race?

He finally realized that the voice in his head was not just his alone, it was transmitted directly from his ark sceptre. "Who… is this?" He asked, grabbing his throat to prevent the sickness from making him throw up. He knew that voice, it was the voice of his dream, beautiful, angelic, and familiar.

So naïve… Like a small child. I am desire, infinite desire. Your desire, to fight, to damage, to kill.

"Liar," Clive coughed out, "I have no desire to fight, not anymore." He awaited an answer, but the voice had fallen silent. As it left, so did the nauseating sensation and he felt a little better. So, the voice came from the ark sceptre, did that mean, it was the work of a Guardian? If he unequipped his mediums, maybe it would make things easier for him, but without his gungnir, he didn't want to risk combat without a proper weapon or magic. It would be suicide.

"Sir?"

Then somebody tapped him on the shoulder, and every thought and impulse in his head became completely immobile. Clive's eyes went wide. Somebody was standing behind him. Once again, implanted instinct made him spin around and grab his assailant by one shoulder, bracing him before slamming his right fist straight into the stranger's stomach. Afterwards, Clive pulled back, horrified at what he had done, again.

Tony made a loud hacking sound, choking out a small spattering of crimson fluid that pattered on the clean floors. The young man clutched his stomach for a few seconds and keeled over into Clive's arms, lost in a dead faint, drops of blood from an internal rupture dribbling down his chin. The sniper sighed and dragged the man into the cabin room, laying him on one of the long benches reserved for the non-existent passengers of the train. Tony's head tilted to one side, and vaguely reminded Clive of Travis, the first man he had killed. He wasn't, Clive hadn't, did he?

He checked Tony's pulse. Thank god, the boy was still very much alive. Clive hit himself softly in the face a couple of times, imitating a motion that Gallows used sometimes. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He cursed, "I should have… I should have been more careful!" That was it, he had to stay away from all humans, at all times. But how? He wasn't going to stay on this train, for sure.

Clive looked to the window, the land flying by as the train sped on. He had an idea. Being extra careful not to fall, he climbed out the window and clung to the side of the train, using all the strength he had to vault himself up onto the flat grey roof, the fierce momentum of the train blowing strong insistent gusts, threatening to knock him clear off. Smiling ironically, he could not be worried, his partially metallic body would not desist against these winds.

No humans, nobody he could harm. This place suited Clive just fine. He sat down and watched the scenery around him, pulling on his mighty gloves, because the monsters in the canyon would no doubt want to make a good meal out of him. The only thing Clive could do now was wait.

On the furthest point of the horizon, Clive saw a large blot that not even he could make out ascend and hover briefly, then blasting off and out of sight, leaving a trail of smoke in the sky. "Lombardia," He said, blocking out the sun from his vision with a hand, "Catherine and Virginia, I know you can find your paths…"

No longer midday, the sun had begun to descend, gradually falling from it's graces. Clive watched it with foreboding.

"I know when the time comes… you can pull the trigger."