Last call for Train 503, departing for Arbour Station in 5 minutes.

The station was small and mostly empty, so I didn't have too much trouble sneaking in. I wish it were easier, though. Despite how often I end up in places I'm not supposed to, that doesn't really mean I want to. It's just a necessity sometimes, but it shouldn't be. Orre is just hell to leave, so were it so easy almost no one would stay. Regardless of the difficulty involved, I managed to sneak onto the train just before it moved out. I decided to hide on the roof until any security finished their patrols, so about half an hour. Although, I'm not exactly in possession of a super tactical mind, so for all I know that would make it even more difficult to avoid them later. We all take risks, right? A nice desert breeze is always nice, anyway.


Fun fact: the desert breeze is a lot less nice when you're moving at 130 miles per hour. The guys in movies make it look so easy. The next step is to get inside the train without being detected. Luckily, because I'm riding a commercial train, most of the passengers are crates and other cargo. Still, best to not enter through the caboose. Though this type of train generally stores most of its cargo in the rear, it's still objectively the best place to hide and likely the best guarded area. Plain sight is unfortunately the best way to hide here. Or at least, I think. Once again, I'm prone to overthinking things. As I slipped in through an open window, I had to trust the universe that no one was in the cabin at the time. There was not. So far, no complications, but this fortune couldn't last forever. I'm not THAT lucky.

At the front of the car, there was a smaller-sized suitcase lying under a seat. Opening it up, there was a spare guard uniform. I guess the guy who owned it wanted to be prepared. Well, he certainly assisted me in my lack of preparation. Very simple outfit; not unlike a mall cop. These guards clearly aren't that well-funded. I quickly put it on over my own clothes. It sucks to wear so many layers on a poorly ventilated train in the desert, but that's a small price to pay for a little extra personal security. Get it? 'cause I'm disguised as security?

Yeah… I guess that wasn't very clever. Can't win 'em all, though, right? Anyway, I checked the suitcase for more spare material, but nothing was left. Understandable, considering there's not much more you can stuff in those. Just the basics for now, then. I made my way to open the cabin door, but upon opening it I ran into one of the guards. One of the REAL guards. He did not look very happy to see my sorry ass.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on patrol, not screwing around in the passenger car."

So far so good, actually. He didn't seem to notice I wasn't the usual crowd just yet. I scrambled to come up with a response. "Oh, sorry, I fell asleep on the way out. I just woke up about minute ago." Mentally, I facepalmed. Sleeping? That would mean I was in the car the whole time, presumably with him. He'd definitely have noticed. The guard definitely looked suspicious, likely more so. "Really? Asleep? You look pretty bright and active for having just woke up," he growled. Ah. So that's the part he was going to latch on to. I guess his employers didn't really look for smarts.

"Yeah, well, I get ready really quickly. Just let me by and I'll get started," I half shouted. Mm. Too defensive. Surely, he had to pick up on that, right?

"Hmm. Fine. But double time it. We've had to pick up your slack."

Guess not. I'm not even that great of a liar, not by a long shot. He's just really not that observant. The guard stepped over to the side to let me through. I had just passed him when-

"I don't recognize you. Where's your identification?"

Well, at least he has some intellect. I was getting a little worried. This guard didn't have enough brawn to compensate for being a complete moron. I slowly turned around, trying to hide a nervous grin. I was sweating, but hopefully that was only because it was hot as hell on this stupid train.

"W-well, I'm new here. For this job. It's my first day, and I got hired just before we left. I don't have my ID yet, since time was short," I stammered out. Shit. I let him get to me. As a result, I failed one of the most important aspects of Exposing a Liar 101: don't get flustered. If you can get someone's guard down, and then ask them an extremely personal question (or any question, really), then unless they're a really skilled liar, they'll tend to get flustered and spit out a half-hearted lie to save their cover. It can be a good indication of an infiltrator, but not always completely accurate. Sometimes people are often just surprised by such questions. In my case, it was proof of my struggle to stay cool. The guard eyed me carefully, suspicious. Then, against all odds, he laughed.

"I guess that's why your uniform is so loose fitting. The stationmaster must not have had a good fit for you, huh? He didn't have one for me when I started either," he said. "I'll let you go, but when we reach Arbour, you're getting that ID. I'll make sure of it."

I chuckled nervously, almost fitting for the situation, and walked away. That was way too close. As long as I can avoid all of the other guards, I shouldn't have to repeat this situation.


I did have to repeat the situation. A further 3 times. Luckily, I had a baseline explanation to stand on those times. Because of that, things were at least a little easier, but it was still extremely difficult to maneuver by without being exposed. Maybe I was, but they just didn't care. Perhaps they simply weren't paid enough to. Regardless, I made my way around the train without being thrown off and that was all I needed. I finally reached the last cart. If I could find a good place to hide there, I'd be set and pretty. I know I said that the caboose would be the worst possible place to hide, but that was at the beginning of the trip. The train is most patrolled then. After that point, things are a little easier. As such, the rear cargo hold is a great place to hide near the end. Ah, I'm not explaining things very well. Better to quit while I'm ahead.

I slid open the door for the caboose. It was surprisingly empty. I guess my luck was balancing out, after all. The entryway was clear as far as guards, so I moved closer to the back for a good place to layover. I wandered by box after box and crate after crate of goods and material. Most of it was manufactured in Orre, but there were a few boxes from other far-off regions like Hoenn and Galar. It can be hard to be self-sufficient in such an arid environment, but usually those rare treats from other places are quickly snapped up. Of course, I'm not an expert in trading, so maybe they were just rejects or something. I don't know. It's still odd, though.

I continued moving past the boxes until I saw a large crate sitting in the middle of the floor. This one was different from the rest, even barring the fact that it was indeed large and in the middle of the floor. It was made of a darker wood than any other in the hold, and certainly looked stronger. There was also some sort of emblem on the side, a gray-colored moon shape. I paused to bend down and look at it. The emblem had a certain quality to it. Almost like it was…protruding from the crate somehow. I touched it, and it gave way, like a button. There was a soft hiss, and the top of the crate slid open a small amount. I moved it over to see what was inside. I'd come this far. The inside of the crate was made of a far more metallic substance, so the outside was more of a façade. Makes me wonder why they bothered with the whole secret button thing anyway. Inside was one single item: a small piece of tech with a few bundles of colored wires on the sides that looked, frankly, pretty unassuming. I could easily hold it in the palm of my hand. Why such a big show for such a little piece? It's too big to fit in a PokéDex, but nothing else on the public market really needs that much tech. Better not to hold onto it. I might raid abandoned buildings in the desert sometimes, but I'm not a thief.

"HEY! YOU THERE!"

Oh, dear. It would appear that in my haste, I forgot that I was on a heavily guarded train. It would be a little harder to explain this one away. "H-hey guys. So it's a bit of a funny story," I said while turning around, but I shouldn't have even bothered. There were two men standing there, and they weren't members of the cheap little guard team; they were decked out in fancy suits like some sort of G-men. If that wasn't intimidating enough, they also had guns pointed at my head. At least, I'd assume my head. In all honesty, it doesn't matter where they're pointing, as long as it's not in my general direction! Without thinking, I quickly ducked behind the crate just as they started firing at me. Funny story, gunfire is extremely loud. Anything they might have tried to yell at me or anything I might have yelled at them would've been completely lost in the cacophony. At this current moment I was, for all intents and purposes, deaf. Thanks to the metal in the crate, none of their shots penetrated through to me. That definitely didn't mean I was safe. I needed to get out of here before the suits had a competent thought and moved around the box to get me. There aren't very many good places to hide on a train, especially when one is cornered like I am. The train is still cruising along at 130mph (personal estimate) and the fall when I jumped off would break between one and all of my bones, if not kill me immediately. These kind gentlemen giving me a good back massage with bullet recoil probably aren't here to negotiate, so I'm dead if I stay here.

Screw it, I'll take my chances with the ground. But how to ensure I don't just splatter on the tracks? I've come too far just to go out now, dammit, especially to some weird, particularly aggressive men in three-pieces. I carefully tipped over the crate so that it was now laying on its side, opening facing me. The gunfire stopped for a moment. They were reloading. If they weren't, I'd only have a split second to do this. I quickly dove for the lid, which had been tossed aside in the fray, and ran back behind my makeshift cover. I kicked the lid back over to the rear door and tipped over the crate one more time. I was now inside of the crate, safe and sound, but not after the two men would come over and lift it off of me. I needed to move fast. I could hear more of the loud kachunk-a-chunk of the train on the track from in front of me, which used to be behind me, so that checked out as the rear of the train. I'm just glad I didn't get on one of those trains with the main cabin on both ends. That would've put an end to my adventure REAL quick. For once, Orre getting stuck with the old, shittier stuff works out in my favor. I picked up the crate by pressing my hands (and back) against the top of the crate and ran-shuffled towards the door. Just like scooting by in a cardboard box, albeit one that weighs probably 60 pounds and is surprisingly bullet resistant. My first attempt failed. I ran into a wall. One of the men probably laughed, but I wouldn't have heard it with my newfound partial deafness. My second and third attempts also failed, but I at least ran into the door. I had to pound it open, and on my fourth run, it broke open. Trying not to trip on the lid, I hobbled over it, grabbed it, and slid it back on the side. Now for my moment of truth; my leap of faith. I kicked at the side of the box again and again until I felt it tilt over the side and…pain. Perhaps holing up in a box that I barely fit in in the first place was not the brightest of my ideas. As I banged and tumbled around, the hope that I wouldn't snap my own neck from the whiplash didn't even enter my head. The pain was so great that began to black out. This couldn't be how it ends, could it?


Agent Locke scowled as the box tumbled away from the train, with its precious cargo in the hands of some dirty kid. THIS was how his first mission was going to go. Great. Agent Keyes was running after it, but Locke knew it wouldn't matter. The package was as good as gone. The two had begged and pleaded for this mission together, promised and promised that everything would be okay with it in their care, only for it to be skipping down the tracks like a rock thrown at a lake.

Skip, skip, skip.

The two agents had been friends since they were children. Always inseparable, and always the best goalies in any playground game they had played. The rivalry that had started between them when they first met quickly gave way to mutual respect, and then friendship. Time had passed, and Keyes had learned that his skills were better suited for scoring. They were the only ones that stood a chance against each other. One was the lock, the other the key. Those nicknames were chosen far before they joined up with Team Nova, often simply referred to as Nova. Too many other incompetent Teams had ruined the brand in many places. Their skills were indeed best suited for guard duty, but that never got to them. They knew it was what they were best at. They were the shield and the sword. The lock and the key.

But today they were outmatched. Keyes threw a piece of debris from the short skirmish at the still-skipping container. It missed. This fact did not elude him, and only proved to piss him off more. Locke was equally pissed. Such failure would guarantee that neither he nor Keyes would receive such a high importance mission ever again. Furiously, he unclipped his radio from his belt and called into command. Someone should at least retrieve the box, even if whatever was in it hadn't survived. In short order, a retrieval specialist was activated. They were observing possible targets in the Kanto region, but this took priority. Those targets wouldn't be going very far, anyway. For the first time today, Locke felt a strong sense of confidence. Retrieval specialists were very good at their jobs.

They don't fail.