My name is Thomas. Five years had passed since everyone close to me - namely my immediate family, had perished in a train accident. Since then, trains had always been my worst foe. They invaded my dreams, constantly chasing me through the dark, red, corridors that framed my nightmares.

It got so bad that I turned to drink in order to suppress the severity of these episodes. I tried moderation at first, but this proved insufficiently numbing, and soon I found myself going on long benders after work, waking up in random locations in the middle of the night.

You can imagine my fear, then, when I found myself square in the middle of some train tracks, probably the freight rails right outside of town. A wet feeling filled my crumpled trousers as I realized where I was. I tried to get up, to no avail. An entire handle bottom shelf gin tends to do that to you, I guess. Like the punchline to a bad cosmic joke, I began to feel the rumbling of an oncoming locomotive upon the rails. I would have wet myself again at that moment, but my bladder had already relieved itself entirely.

The lights of the train grew brighter, searing their radiation upon my sweat filled brow. My stomach dropped and the thumping in my chest and head grew louder; louder and louder the thumping grew; my head pounded like a drum.

*thump* *thump* "Sir! Sir! Please wake up!"

The thumping continued and my knees grew weak, the world shifting around me like a hall of mirrors. My legs buckled and I clutched the floor as it bucked and heaved beneath me. The world spun and my vision blurred ever more wildly.

"Sir please! You have to wake up! Please!" a young woman's voice punctuated my heavy, drunken daze and the thumping turned to banging. My head pounded like a gun had blown my brains out and suddenly a door flung open with a bang. Waking up, I found myself in a small, cramped bathroom, the rumbling of the train rocking me back and forth; a greasy ticket crushed into a tight ball in my hand. My drink and meal had spilled from my stomach and onto the front of my shirt, drying into a thick apron; a frantic attendant had forced the bathroom door open.

That was the last thing my eyes ever saw on this sad, cold, Earth. More voices – an older man, the now-screaming attendant, and what sounded like paramedics – blended together like the vomit-apron on my chest. Then, with crushing finality, I held on long enough to hear: "He's got alcohol poisoning! Pump his stomach, stat!"

Then, at last, my wearied mind knew stillness and quiet.

"It's the end, isn't it?" I thought to myself. "What a rotten run."

Yet barely a moment had passed after my seeming demise, when I found myself shocked back into consciousness by the sensation of a hard, wooden floor. The pounding, it seemed, was gone, entirely, and so was the vomit on my shirt.

Rather, I awoke with a start to find myself entirely nude, in a much cruder bathroom than the last. The room rumbled with that characteristic feeling – I was aboard another one of these damned trains. But what of my hangover? What of my death, of finally letting go of that rotten life?

A shrill, irritating voice interrupted my thoughts: "Sir, please! You have to wake up! Please!"

I groaned and covered my shame with a hand as this second room's door, a creaky affair of wood and metal, swung open with a whoosh.

"There he is! There's our man. He wakes up after all this time, doesn't he? God bless you, sir, you're going to be just fine. It's been about two weeks, give or take, for you. We've been reserving this bathroom for an awful while. Two weeks without food or water. I've got nurses waiting outside, they'll help you regain your strength. Please, sir, don't be afraid, it's not much longer now. This is the last stop, the final station. Your destination awaits."

My eyes roamed around the room, searching for any sign of these nurses the voice spoke of. I could see nothing. Instead, a large, furry creature sat before me, its face obscured in darkness. I pulled away as if burned.

"Are you alright, sir?"

The creature said it with a thick, foreign accent as if it were trying to speak English, yet struggling to overcome a language barrier. I blinked several times, my eyes growing accustomed to the light.

"I... uh... yes." I stammered. "Yes, I'm ok."

"Good!" The creature replied. "Then let us begin. Today is your lucky day. You will not die here. Not today. But first, we have to fix you up. We have to make you strong."

The creature took out a rope, thick and strong, folded hundreds of times over to make a mighty python of hemp. The creature then took out a leather belt, the brown hide creased with wear and the buckle shined to an evil gleam. Finally, the creature procured a hefty pair of gloves, a velvet collar, and a dirty rag and began closing the distance between us. I started shaking and the sweat on my back ran cold.

I became keenly aware of the creature's sinuous arms, iron cords of muscles that were capped with massive, calloused hands. Large was but an understatement, for I came to realize that this was a beast of a creature, a monster that barely fit its skin. It stepped closer and closer and I found myself mere inches away from my face. Its breath was hot lava to my skin and I could only stare helplessly at the contraptions in its hands, bracing myself for the inevitable contortions and acrobatics to come.

Then, the creature placed the whole lot firmly in my hands. Leading me to the open bathroom doors, it said "Come, the nurses await".

"I'm sorry, please give me a minute," I said as I handed back the bundle of fun. "I need to clear my mind, I think I just died twice." The furry man thing beast nodded, "Think as much as you need, that too will make you stronger."

Knees weak, arms spaghetti, head spinning, the rough leather, a memory of my family surfaces. "Ah- , uh, sorry. Could you actually demonstrate how to use your tools. …. on me?"

Knees weak, arms spaghett

Could you demonstrate on me

This will stronger too

Ropes and leather in hand, the creature nodded solemnly, a gesture with a strange impression of knightliness. In the dimness of the lavatory, I swore I could see a bit of light glimmer from an air vent and illuminate the creature's darkened features. A shiver ran down my spine. In that instant, I saw the unmistakable grin of a rat. With a flourish, the creature donned the dirty rag as a loincloth, put on the gloves and collar, then cracked both of the remaining implements like whips. "I meant for this to be your starting equipment in a training battle against my nurse colleagues, but it seems you are confident enough to face me instead. Very good. Have at you!" The rat-creature rushed forward, and time stopped as a glowing overlay appeared in front of me.

[Attack]

[Magic]

[Run]

[Flirt]

[Ultimate Train Attack (2000 TP)]

As a wise sage once said, I was boned. I was a nude, shivering man facing an eager, well-equipped opponent. What choice was there but to select the "Ultimate Train Attack"?

As I thought this to myself, the overlay automatically selected that option, as if reading my mind. "Go!" I commanded, and a noticeable heaviness filled the air. "WHAT?" snarled, the rat-creature, stopping in mid-charge.

"Oh, nevermind," I said hastily. "You know what? I've changed my mind. Go ahead and attack me."

Without hesitation, the rat began running towards me, and I made ready. The creature's long, powerful body glided across the floor of the lavatory like a cat, leaving long skid marks in its wake. As it closed the gap between us, I readied myself for its charge to be met with a flurry of blows.

But as the creature neared, it leapt. The furry monster leaped high into the air above me, bounding like a gymnast from one wall to the other. It landed squarely on my shoulders, whereupon it stretched its neck out like a snake and began to constrict me. My arms and legs went numb with the pressure of its thick, sinewy neck muscles, which closed like a steel vice. After several seconds, my vision began to blur, as if my eyes were being squeezed by a giant fist. I tried to fight back, kicking and punching the creature's neck, but my limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each.

Finally, my head was forced back down to earth, the rat's scaly, metallic lips inches from my own. And then, the creature's teeth pierced my flesh. Its fangs sunk into my shoulder, tearing through my shirt and drawing blood, and then pierced through to my bone.

This hurt, and I cried out in pain. Yet, even in the throes of agony, I couldn't bring myself to die again. I felt something else inside me, a surge of power, of energy, as if my very cells were changing.

A revolution, an industrial revolution! My cells split again and again, my skeleton lighting up like a coal mine set ablaze, like my whole body was being wrought asunder into a new, more perfect being. My spine then stiffened and straightened out as if a bolt struck my body. My arms glued to my side and I felt both my hands and feet being mashed into wheels. Smoke began pouring out of my ears as I white hot pit burned in my stomach. On and on as my body tumbled and turned, adding a steel smokebox, pistons, and steam. How had it never occurred to me before? Why should a man fight his fears when he can simply become it?

"My name is Thomas. My tank shall pierce the heavens. *choo choo* think I am?"

The rat's fangs were pushed out of my now steel flesh, and in its confusion, it began to lunge in for another taste. But then it stopped. "So this is true strength," it muttered, as it unwound itself and prostrated before me. Time paused once again, and a game notification appeared before me.

"Cleo the Hairy now has a favorable disposition. Would you like to flirt?"

Yes

"Uh, there's only yes?" I looked around, but nothing responded or happened. So I thought, yes.

To be continued….