Switzerland and Poland are - well, they still haven't decided what they are yet. Some are plain thankful it isn't their town who will be offering up a child for their captors, while others ignore it altogether, knowing that the odds are truly in their favour. True, there are always the rebellious ones, but those lie on the fringe of a society that's eager to blend in with the crowd. Easy to spot, easy to target.

Yvette is part of another fringe in Swiss society, but one that's more appealing to the Germans she is travelling towards - she's actively complying with their demands. Somewhere along the long line that their train is travelling on, she had realized that this wasn't the end of the world. No, it was more than that, it was an opportunity, one that could give her the life that she's always wanted. Yes, she's been given one true chance to get the life that she's always wanted, to get what she deserves.

Now, all she has to do is figure out how to deceive the rest of the competition into falling for her lies.

Her first foe is talking with the old man on the train, a bothersome person that Yvette hasn't tried to acquaint herself with.

No, the person she should focus on first is the boy named Nino Altherr. She doesn't know what they'll throw her into, whether it be a walled-in room or a mansion or an entire forest, but what she does know is that she'll need allies if she's going far in the competition.

And Nino, with a quiet smile and the comfortable figure of those who haven't been harshly affected by the war, is her first chance to find just that.

"Excuse me, Nino, do you know if there's any food on the train that we can eat? I'm starving, and we have a long way to go before we reach the capital. Could you help me find something to eat?" Yvette bats her eyelashes and bites back a grin as Nino nods, a slightly startled look crossing his face as he's interrupted from his previous conversation. But he obeys her and enters the next car, looking to see if they've been left any food.

"Oh, there are a few things over here for us to eat," Nino says as he enters yet another train car. Are so many cars for so few people necessary? "There's a lot of baked goods, muffins and biscuits and cookies and cake and…"

Yvette's mouth opens wide in shock. "How did they… why did they make so much?" She's not used to this much food, most of her exposure to large meals being the dinners that she was forced to help her mother make for their many guests. When they were finished, they took the leftovers upstairs and ate them in the small living room before heading off to bed. They always took the last helpings, the crumbs of the once great meal.

But this? This is all for her.

Nino bites into a muffin, the corners of his mouth folding up in delight as he tastes the sweet chocolate buried inside. Back at home, he liked to have muffins for breakfast. It started as a rebellion from the buns and eggs and bacon that they always ate in the morning, but he grew to love the sweet muffins and their many flavours. He and his mother tried to make a batch themselves one happy morning, but after two burnt pans of muffin mix they had decided that baking was best left to the bakeries which they shopped from.

The muffins taste like they're from home.

"This is amazing!" Yvette says between mouthfuls. She's devouring a piece of chocolate cake that's been dotted with berries, smiling all the while. "Who knew that they would make this all for us?"

"Maybe they feel guilty," he says quietly. He doesn't know why he thinks that, but perhaps someone knows that what they're doing is wrong, that he shouldn't have to go off to this. Maybe this is their quiet sorry to Yvette and Nino, one last good meal before they truly begin. "But this is still lovely food! I wonder who the bakers were."

"Who cares? What matters is that we can eat this between this and the competition," Yvette replies. "There are going to be a lot of other people who want to win this -" she takes another bite of the cake, then washes it down with a glass of water from a large pitcher. "And we'll need all the help we can get. National loyalty goes a long way, you know."

"What?" Nino tries to parse the meaning from her words, but gives up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we should work together." Yvette stops eating, her face hardening into an impassive stare. "If we have each other, we can go far. Do you think that we could do that?"

"I…" Nino's not sure what he wants. Truthfully, what he wants to do is run - run away and find a place where he can't be seen, where he's the one watching instead of being watched. But he's stuck in here and forced to play, and Yvette seems nice. Why not? "I… sure. Let's work together!"

Yvette gives him a grin, her teeth shining in the light of the afternoon sun. "I'm glad you see it my way."

Nino smiles back. "Me too."

"You too?" Karol turns away from Dahlia in dismay. "We can't just give up, even if there's people twice our size in this. When you're actually in this gladiator match, would you really give up that fast?"

"What's a gladiator?" Dahlia seems confused, and Karol realizes that she hasn't read much about the Roman empire and ancient times. Judging by the way she's eyeing the other train cars, her eyes darting this and that way for a place to hide, she doesn't have much time for reading at all.

"Oh, just this thing from a long-dead empire. It doesn't matter, although it does, I suppose… my point is that we have to fight!" Karol's getting angry now, angry at the girl who doesn't understand that they have to fight if they want to survive and at the country who has the audacity to tell them that they're supposed to die. Maybe he'll try to mess things up on them, do something to mess the competition up.

Then again, maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should play it safe for now, actually be smart instead of rushing off and getting himself killed because he's being brash.

"But we're not even there yet. We can figure out what we'll be doing when we get to Berlin. For now, I'm going to find a place to sleep. That meal has me nice and tired. Have you ever had such a big meal?" Dahlia yawns. She gets up from the seat slowly, stretching her arms out before rubbing her eyes and walking away from Karol.

Karol watches her walk away, still trying to wrap his head around what to do. There's too much to think about, too much to decide in such a short time - no wonder he's as tired as Dahlia.

Actually, he'll sleep on it.

"Sleep well!" Dahlia waves goodbye to Karol, then enters the train car that the woman with them had said they would sleep in. There's a door with her name on it, written on a funny little golden plate that one can slide in and out of a slot at the top of the door. She likes it. It makes her feel fancy.

The walnut-coloured door opens up easily, and she steps into a world of fabric and fancy that's just so overwhelmingly beautiful she pauses to pinch herself. She has to make sure that she isn't dreaming.

But no, that is a huge bed with sheets of silk and with curtains as thin as gauze. And there's the window that showcases the Polish valley they're travelling through this evening, and under it is a bath with edges that round into the bath. Perhaps it's to keep the water from toppling out as the train curves on the railway?

She chooses to fall onto the bed first, pulling off her dirty clothes and putting on the nightgown that's been handily provided to her by those who have prepared the room. Now she feels more at ease in this bedroom. Before she felt alien in her old clothes, but wearing something clean lets her fit in. It feels a bit more right to sleep here tonight.

She doesn't belong in this bedroom, she knows that. A girl who's spent years away from home ever since the bomb that ki… that… that killed her parents - oh, it still hurts to think about - and with layers of dust on her skin from living through a war on the streets of Warsaw, doesn't belong in this land where dust is unwelcome and whose treasure seems to be the fanciest sheets of fabric one can find.

But she would like to.

.oOo.

Turkey and Northern Africa - the Germans say Afrikka, the separate countries protest against it, and they all sit in an angry atmosphere of denial as the Germans try to take their children away - are large places, but they all know what's happening tonight. Well, most. A few villages that are just far away from any large cities and settlements of tribes who avoid contact are free from the tribulations, free from offering up their children, but those are the minority. The empire has been nothing but thorough in its effort to make the world attend this lottery, and Turkey goes well. As expected, both children are quickly taken and whisked away to a military vehicle that they'll drive in until they reach a railway line to take them to Berlin.

But the Germans don't expect the male choice for Afrikka to not show up to the lottery.

After the initial shock of their male choice not being present at his respective lottery, the escort chosen for this small city in Ghana stands awkwardly on the stage while German soldiers discuss the matter with officials from the city. They come up with a compromise - the Germans could have their pick of any of the teenagers being held in custody at a Ghana police station, and that would be the one to head to Germany.

Bosede Okafor isn't sure if he should be relieved or frightened when they come to pick him up.

But now here he is, sitting in this large train that's rocketing through what the soldiers said was Europe. He's never been outside of Ghana, and it's strange to know that he's away from everything that he's ever known. He's been constantly angry and worried throughout the journey. It's strange, because he can't find much to worry about, but he still knows that this isn't right.

Oh well, he'll be back home soon enough.

The girl he's being taken with has tried to talk to him, but the fact that he knows little of the language she's speaking led her to give up and look for a quiet place on the train to sit. Bosede would guess that she tried to speak French to him - a good guess, if he did speak French. Most of Ghana spoke English or one of the indigenous languages from around the region, and he was one of the former.

But here she is again, regarding him with a cautious smile and what seems to be a translator, her small attempt to bridge the language gap. Bosede sighs and turns back around to them both, speaking directly to the translator. "What does she wants to know?"

The translator turns to the girl, conducting a quick conversation in what sounds like the harsh German that the soldiers on the train speak, before addressing Bosede. "She says that her name is Amal, and that she'd like to speak with you. She asks if you're the one from Ghana, and if you'd like to have some food at the front of the train with her?"

Bosede scoffs at the slight girl, dismissing her as a possible ally. He doesn't like the fact that he knows her name now. It's easier to fight someone if he thinks of them as the enemy, give a face to the faceless that isn't theirs so he doesn't feel guilty when he sees the real victims.

How else would he have survived for so long?

Amal studies the boy, watching that strange, uneasy look in his eyes that lets her know that he's not one that she should try to talk to. There's something about his demeanour, how he watches the world with a detached gaze, that just unnerves her. She won't try to make friends with the boy, she doesn't trust him enough right now.

But he is the only company that's her age, and the train has a long way to go until they reach their destination. A little conversation wouldn't hurt.

Right?

"So, you're the one from Ghana?" she asks, waiting for the translator to understand what she's said before continuing to speak. "It'd be nice to talk for a bit, especially when there are so few people here. Would you like to eat some food at the front of the train? They have a whole table filled with food for us."

The translator speaks to Bosede, and the boy laughs at her. Laughs! Beginning to get annoyed, Amal speaks again. She swears, if he's just going to brush her off she'll just not tell him about the rest of the train. "Well, I'll leave you with an open invitation. I thought it would be worth getting to know you, but I'll let you be if you want to be on your own. That's fair enough."

Bosede speaks to the translator, and the woman translates the message in a hushed tone. "He says that it would do you well to stay away from him. He says that he doesn't like your talking, miss."

What?

What?

Elif steps into her room with a cautious gaze, unused to something that's… well, all her own. And it's beautiful - the entire room is decked out with beautiful fabrics and glass that looks brand new. Her own home has scuffed glass with scratch marks and fingerprints from whenever one of her younger brothers decides to look out the window with dirty fingers, and she hates how it just never seemed to be clean.

Back at home, she never had space, she never had room to breathe and feel and think without one of her siblings bursting in and demanding all of her attention. Sometimes, she just wished that she could be in a place without anyone, where she could keep everything clean and all her own. It would be perfect.

Well, it looks like she's found one.

She stammers a thank you to the man who has brought her to her room - another one of the strict military officials who are bringing herself and the other boy to Europe - and closes the door, unused to being in a bedroom with a man, let alone a complete stranger. Yes, she'd just like to be alone right now. It doesn't feel right sharing it with anyone else.

Maybe if she takes something from the dining room, they'll let her eat in her bedroom and finally sit in a place to feel peaceful ever since they ripped her out of the crowds and on this train.

Elif hurries down the cramped hallway that lines the train car with all of the bedrooms, pulling down her sleeves. Perhaps it's so cramped because the huge bedrooms take up so much of the space.

Deniz looks up as Elif hurries into the room, his mouth full with one of the cakes on the table. He's busy sampling a vanilla cake with fluffy icing and beautiful, bright red berries that have been labelled as strawberries, and it tastes divine. Perhaps Elif wants some as well.

"Oh, oh, hello," Elif says softly. She takes a plate, and fills it up with a few sandwiches. "Do… do you know if we're allowed to eat in our rooms? I just, I just wanted to find a place to be alone. I haven't had one for a while."

"Oh, of course," Deniz replies. He swallows down the piece of cake and nods, gesturing to the tables of food. "I'm sure they'll be fine if you just take a plate and hide in your room. If you lock it, they wouldn't get in." He claps a hand over his mouth for saying such a thing, but then removes it. Why not lock the door and refuse to come out? They can't make them fight, can they?

Can they?

Truth be told, he doesn't want to know.

"Oh! I didn't really think of that, I suppose," Elif near-whispers. They feel uneasy here, yet they latch onto each other as the only normal in this whole train. Even if they're not supposed to hide, even if they're supposed to head to this Berlin, at least there's one other person who feels normal.

Then, the two look away from each other and continue to fill up their plates.

Deniz doesn't say a word when Elif leaves the room, and she says not one to him.

Train Rides II finished! Woohoo!

To everyone still here, hey again! We're going to keep trucking through these train rides, and after number three we'll only have one more chapter until the bloodbath. Crazy!

Anyways, enjoy! I hope you liked the chapter, and I'm excited to finish with these train rides tomorrow. I'll see you then!

Vote in the poll, get hype for death, and have fun! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ