It was early morning at the Owens residence, but it wasn't peaceful for long: a knock on the door disturbed the peace. Mr. Owens went to answer. In front of the doorway were two men.

Both were dressed in suits, but one was taller, and the shorter one had a beard.

"Good mornink. You're Villiam Owens, korrect?" asked the one with the beard.

"Yes, I am," said Mr. Owens. "Asks who?"

"Excellen Seig Heil!" said the German, as he and the other man stepped inside, "Mein friend unt I are historians unt haf kome into a bit uff trouble ve need your help vizz. I heart you dabble in ze ancient language uff Sudric."

"Yes, my family has lived here since the days of King Orry. Again, who asks? Who the blazes are you?"

"You see, sir," said the taller man, "as my companion said, we're looking for someone who could translate Sudric."

"You've still not answered my question," Mr. Owens growled, his patience running thin.

"Ah, cha, uff kourse: vare are mein manners? I'm Vilhelm, unt zis iss mein friend, Vyatt."

"And why did you see fit to disturb an old man like me, at 6:00 am, on a damn Sunday?"

"I told you," said Wyatt. "There's some texts in this book that are written in Sudric. We need you to help us translate them."

"I'm sorry, I don't do translating, especially not for people who come into my house uninvited. Now sod off, before I…"

Wilhelm held up his hand.

"I'm afraid you don't understent, Herr Owens: ve didn't ask you fur help, ve told you ve need help. Besides, I heart your family iss kurrently in a, um, schticky situation mitt Samein Fernby."

"I don't know anybody who doesn't have a problem with him," muttered Wyatt.

"You're not helpink."

"Your partner is right, Kraut. Everyone living in Vicarstown has something against Fernby," said Mr. Owens.

"Zis iss mein offer: help us," said Wilhelm, "unt I'll make sure you haf enough money to make sure Fernby nefer bozzers you again."

"No. Sod off: I can handle him myself."

Wilhelm sighed.

"I vished zis vas not neetet…but vell…ve've heart you haf a grentson?"

Mr. Owens went pale.

"Who told you that? And why are you bringing him into this?"

"Oh, it vould be a schame if somesink vere to happen to him…right?"

Before anyone could react, Wyatt was grabbed by the old man.

"Who the fuck do you think you are by threatening to harm my grandson!" he shouted, saliva flying into Wyatt's face. "If you lay one fatal hand on my boy, I'll cut off your nutsack and nail it to my door, like one of those lion door knockers rich folks got! That will be YOUR BALLS!"

He then slammed the man against the ground, and stomped on his face.

"Consider that a fucking warning!" he shouted. "Now leave, before I bring out my breechloader!"

It was at that moment, Wilhelm realised he had gone too far: threatening to harm the child of a parent or grandparent, especially one who happened to be armed, was not a good way to get on somebody's good side. Thinking quickly, he changed tactics.

"Mein dear Herr Owens, I'm so sorry about zat: zoroughly out uff line fur me to zreaten your grandson. Please, von't you…"

"William? Whit is gonnae oan?" Aila asked from upstairs. "Quite a din tae be makin' sae early in the mornin'."

Wilhelm and Wyatt froze: they had woken up a witness.

"These two bastards threatened to harm our boy! I was just giving them a piece of my mind."

"Forgife me, madam, zere seems to haf been a misunderstentink," said Wilhelm, as Aila walked into view. "I hat nein intention uff harmink your grentson, mein vorts chust...came out vrong. I haf a habit uff doink zat."

"Weel, everybody hus their flaws, nane o' us is perfect. Especially no' ma man, as ye probably seen."

"Tell me about it," groaned Wyatt. Mr. Owens wasn't really pleased.

"What right have you got to tell these two strangers I have problems?! I don't have any, Aila!"

"Aye, and I'm the Queen of Sodor," said Aila. "It's fair dunter for breakfast, anyhoo. Why dinnae ye lads join us?"

The two men enjoyed the meal Aila cooked for them, but Mr. Owens kept glaring daggers at them.

"Vell, madam, I haf to say, zeess vas a vonderful breakfast…zorry for comink uneenfited: vee vere een urgent neet of your husbant's help."

"Regardin' wot?"

"This book," said Wyatt, placing it on the table. "Part of it is in Sudric, a language neither of us speak. My partner heard your husband is fluent in that ancient language, and want him to translate that particular part."

"And what's so important about this part?" asked Mr. Owens.

"That doesn't concern you!" snapped Wyatt. "Just do us…"

"Vyatt, Vyatt, settle down," said Wilhelm. "Sorry, sir: he gets rasser riled up easily. As for vat is important about it, vell…you care for your country, right?"

"Of course I do: no self-respecting Brit would turn their back on the King and the Empire."

"Exactly!" said Wilhelm. "Suss, if you translate zis section for us, vee can ensure Britain vill end zee var triumphantly. So please, translate for us."

"Lemme go find a pen and paper," said Mr. Owens with a sigh. He got up and walked out of the kitchen.

"He seems to have settled down," remarked Wyatt.

"I jist houp he aichtually dis bring a pen an' a peper instead o' a gun: he's dain that afore."

"Your husbant sounts rasser abusiff," said Wilhelm.

"Nae abusive, jist impulsive: he's quick tae overreact tae even the wee-est o' threits," said Aila. "Mind ye, he fechtit in the Zulu War an' lost his best mate, Ah reckon he's sufferin' fae PTSD."

"I see…"

Mr Owens returned with the pen and paper, opened the book, and wrote down the translation as he read it.

"Thank you for your cooperation" muttered Wyatt after he finished. "We'll be going now." The two men took the book and translation and left the house.

"Suckers. As if I'd help someone who threatened my grandson," scoffed Mr. Owens.

"Willie! They said sorry, even Wilhelm owned up tae his mistake!"

"You think I'd fall for that? They're clearly faking it! It's easy to see through their lies!"

"Yer a pure paranoid numpty! Ye cannae be thinkin' everyone that accidentally says somethin' harmfu' is gonnae hurt our grandson!"

"'It'd be a shame if something happened to him' sounds like a threat to me!"

"And he said it wisnae oan purpose!"

"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS AN ACCIDENTAL THREAT! Speaking of whom, where's Conan?"

In Kellsthorpe Forest, Conan had taken Jewelie over to the black water pond he had tripped in.

"Are you sure, Jewels? There's no turning back from this."

"Sure as I'll ever be, Connie," said Jewelie, skimming an open flask through the puddle. "I want to be with you forever."

"You do know that means you'll outlive everybody else, right? Even our children."

"We shall see," said Jewelie, and she drank the flask dry.

For a few minutes, nothing happened.

"Of course! We're not close to any engine. We should go back to the station."

They got up and walked back to Kellsthorpe Road, waiting for the next train. Secretly, Conan was worried.

"I sure hope the Black water doesn't harm her organs," he muttered.

He was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of an engine whistle. Emily soon pulled in.

"All passengers for the return express to Vicarstown, please board the train," called the stationmaster. His heart beating wildly, Conan squeezed his girlfriend's hand and boarded.

As soon as she was seated on the compartment, Jewelie felt her heart beat wildly, in a way it was nearly painful. Conan hugged her.

"Don't worry, it passes. Trust me."

During the return journey, Jewelie felt a heat fill her insides, it was like she was on fire.

"How did you manage to survive this?" she asked, groaning in pain.

"Luck, I guess."

Luckily, their compartment was empty, so nobody noticed.

Wilhelm and Wyatt, by now, had returned to Wyatt's house.

"How did you know he had a grandson?" asked Wyatt when they were inside. Wilhelm shrugged.

"I sought it vas common to haf grentkits arount here," he said. "Now zen, vat does zee translation say?"

"Alright, let's see," said Wyatt, taking out the translated paper. "According to this…" His eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh…my…god! Wilhelm…he lied to us!"

"Vat are you talkink about? Hant me zat paper."

Wilhelm took a look, and gasped: instead of a translation, the paper had a message saying, "Your mother was a fucking shit who cheated on your dad, you fat ugly son of a bitch!" Wilhelm grew angry.

"Vat right does zis jackass haff to insult my late mozzer?" he growled. "He nefer eefen met her!" He was about to tear the paper up, when Wyatt stopped him.

"WAIT! Maybe we can use this to our advantage!"

"Be sensible, Vyatt, how?!"

"Well…what if we show it to a police chief and tell him it was Mr. Owens who wrote the message for him?"

"Maybe not zee police," said Wilhelm. "Vee rishk gettink ourselfs caught if we go to zem. But perhaps zare IS somebody vee can schow it to. Brilliant! Get him on zee phone: vee'll meet up at zee Shtandink Shtones in Killdane. He may be able to confinss zee police more zan vee effer could."

Wyatt nodded and went to the phone. He dialled a number.

"VOO is callink?!" asked a German Officer.

"The hen of your own eggs," Wyatt answered.

"Ah, Vyatt, so nice to hear from you again. Tell me: how did your mission go?"

"That's why I contacted you," said Wyatt. "You see…he tricked us. Granted, we did threaten to harm his grandson, but that's no excuse for the insulting message William Owens gave us instead of the translation. Wilhelm and I were hoping you could help us convince a police chief that the message was for the chief instead of us."

"You're right," said the Officer. "Sreatenink his grentson is no excuse to lie to my men. I'll gladly help. Vare do you vant to meet up?"

"The Standing Stones, near Killdane."

"Excellent! I'll see you bozz zare tonight. Germany vill vin no matter vat. May Kaiser be vis you until zee end!"

"Hail Kaiser!" replied Wyatt. The call ended afterwards. "He's agreed to the deal," Wyatt informed Wilhelm. "Forgot to specify a specific time, but he said he'd meet us there tonight."

"Perfect, Vyatt," smirked Wilhelm. "A real pity vee are schtuck here until eefenink. To pass zee time, let's read srough zee resht of zee book. Perhaps zare may be usser sinks zat can help us vis our goal."

By now, Emily had returned to Vicarstown, and Jewelie felt like she was going to melt. Conan helped her off and took her over to Edward.

"How'd it go?" the K2 asked.

"Feel…I'm…blowing…up!" wheezed Jewelie. "How long does it last?!"

"Hard to say," Edward replied. "Could take up to a full day. The best thing to do would be to rest until it passes."

"Can't deny that," admitted Conan, remembering how he passed out.

"By the way, which engine did you bond with?" Edward asked Jewelie.

"Dark green…big wheels!" wheezed Jewelie.

"Then it sounds like Emily's going to be in for a shock," chuckled Edward. Instead of replying to this, Jewelie ended up coughing some smoke.

"I think I better take you home," said Conan.

"My home? Or yours?"

Conan thought about this: he hadn't really considered which one would be closer.

"Maybe even a Parcel Van could do…I'm so tired…"

"Better to go with a coach: they have seats," Edward pointed out. Jewelie ended up fainting before she could reply to this. When she woke up, she found herself staring up at Conan's face. It was then that she realised he was carrying her bridal style.

"C-Connie…?"

"Oh, Jewels! You're finally awake! That's a relief."

"Uh, w-w-w-where are we going?" she asked.

"Figured I'd take you back to my place," said Conan, stopping in front of his house. "Would've gone to yours, but I didn't really remember the directions today."

"Uh, c-c-can you p-please put m-m-me down?" asked Jewelie. Conan realised what he was doing and blushed, but was interrupted by a shout coming from the house before he could reply.

"The fuck?"

Conan gave a groan.

"Don't tell me my grandparents are arguing again! Alright, Jewels, how do I get to your house from here?"

"Eh, well…could you…drop me…please?"

"Yes…of course." Conan placed Jewelie down and she stood up.

"Alright, thanks for taking care of me. Now, follow me."

The two walked back to her house. As they did, Conan decided to ask questions.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asked.

"No. Not anymore."

"Illness?"

"Ran away actually: one day, she and dad got into a fight and she never came back."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. I'm not even sure what it was about."

"Ok, and how did your dad avoid getting drafted?"

"Good question," Jewelie admitted. "Perhaps something happened that made him deemed unfit to serve. Maybe he was too old, I don't know." The walk to her place was uneventful: they just talked. That was until halfway there, when a car almost hit Jewelie. Panicking, she jumped back…and ended up doing a backflip, one that lasted longer than usual.

"Ok, this definitely isn't normal," she said, but she didn't have time to ponder that: she was about to land on the ground in a way that would break her neck. Thinking quickly, she righted herself up and managed to land safely on her feet. "Wow! All my years of training and I've never been able to flip that high before! This water bond thing is…AWESOME!"

"Yes, just…try to be careful," warned Conan. "One wrong move and…"

"Relax, Connie!" scoffed Jewelie. "I've turned immortal! Nothing can touch me now!" Conan sighed: she was starting to become like Lily, wasn't she?

Emily was not too pleased either when she found out.

"YOU WATER BONDED ME TO YOU WITHOUT PERMISSION?!" she screamed when they returned to Vicarstown. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Geez, girl, calm down! It's no big deal!"

"IT IS A BIG DEAL! I BURPED IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY WHEN I ARRIVED AT VICARSTOWN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW EMBARRASSING THAT IS?! I SHOULDN'T BE BURPING, I'M A PROPER LADY!"

"And what exactly IS a proper lady?" Olive asked. "As far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing: you and I are both girls."

"And I'm one tough cookie!" boasted Jewelie. "Nothing can touch me!"

"Deja vu?" Conan asked Selena. The 3835 sighed in affirmation. "Any idea what we can do to stop it?"

"Leave it to me," she said. "Jewelie, you may be water bonded, but that doesn't mean you aren't invincible: your bones are still liable to breaking and, while it's true you don't die from ageing, that doesn't mean you won't die at all."

"Rubbish!" scoffed Jewelie.

"It's not rubbish," said Edward firmly. "I know, and this is something I told Conan: the person I was bonded to committed suicide. I still don't know why he died but I didn't. Being water bonded is a big responsibility, Jewelie," he warned. "It's not something to just show up just because you feel like it."

"Please! I've been practising under my dad since I was ten, now I'll be better than ever!" The engines and people present rolled their eyes: the fact she was able to dodge a car easily was clearly getting to Jewelie's head.

"Listen Jewels…promise me you're not gonna be too reckless, okay?"

"No need to worry, Connie," said Jewelie with a wink. "I'll be all-okay!"

Nobody was really convinced.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," said Conan. The two then walked away.

"Anybody got a gun they can point at her?" asked Olive. The other engines stared disapprovingly. "What? They work."

"You're insane!" scolded Edward.

"Besides, fire arms aren't allowed on railway property!" Emily pointed out. "Our crews would get in trouble for bringing their guns into the railway yard!"

"Try telling that to the military and security," scoffed Olive.

"That's different: they need them for defence!" Edward shouted. "Those are professionals, they know how to handle guns."

"Bah!" snorted Olive. "I reckon I'd be able to handle guns no problem." And she steamed out of the shed.

"She's kidding, right?" asked Selena.

"Hard to say," replied Edward. "There are railguns, but she'd have a hard time getting a hold of one of those: they are well-guarded after all."

Emily just sat in her berth, sulking in silence.

"A proper lady…Why didn't they ask me?"

"We can't always choose who we get water bonded to," Edward replied. "More often than not, the person doesn't even intend to bond with the engine they're riding behind after they drink black water."

"She could've at least asked me!" huffed Emily. So upset was Emily she soon refused to steam properly. The Fat Director was informed and decided to have a pep-talk with her.

"I get why you're upset," the Fat Director said to her. "Yes, it's true: Jewelie should've asked you for permission first. However, what's done is done and it's too late to do anything about it now. You were pulling the train she boarded, a simple thing of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now please, stop pulling a Lily and get back to work: I don't expect you to forgive Jewelie, but at least let this go."

"It's not just that: I burped in front of all the passengers at Vicarstown!" Emily shrieked. The Fat Director paused, and it was then that he realised why Emily was upset: her image of being a perfect motherly-figure had taken a hit.

"Emily, let me tell you something: I didn't buy you because of your perfect image, nobody is perfect. I bought you because I saw you working hard on a goods train. That's what I like to see on my railway: engines who work hard no matter what. So can you please stop worrying about your image? Yes, it's important to look good for passengers, but that's nothing compared to hard work: after all, without work, there wouldn't be any railway, would there?"

Emily sighed: she realised he was right.

"Of course not sir! I'll get right back to work! When's the next goods train?"

"Excellent! Glad we had this talk. A slow goods is due out soon, you can pull it if you want."

Emily happily agreed to do so.

The trucks didn't give her any grief, and she finished the journey safely. Jewelie, on the other hand, kept showing off, much to Conan's annoyance.

"You're gonna hurt yourself, Jewels"

"Nonsense! I'm fit as a fiddle!"

It was worse when she was practising with her fellow cheerleaders: she ended up doing all the stunts, and others that were technically impossible. Conan was concerned, and he decided to bring her to the Fat Director and Edward, the two people who got as close as they could to being "experts" in water bonds. While he tried to come up with something that didn't make it sound like his girlfriend was on steroids.

"You have probably noticed Jewel's being a little…hyperactive, lately."

"Well, no shit. What's she taking?"

"Nothing! What makes you think that?"

"Are you really asking?"

At the same time, Jewelie was getting an earful from Edward.

"What are you thinking? Do you know what could happen if the secret got out?"

"Not really, but why shouldn't I enjoy this?"

"What you were doing isn't simply enjoying, it's being reckless."

"Bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit, it's very dangerous: jumping over trucks and coaches can be very dangerous: one wrong move and you'll end up with a broken neck."

"Fine, I won't jump over coaches anymore, happy?"

"Not just coaches: trucks too. And I won't be happy until you stop behaving dangerously."

"The trucks like my stunts!"

The Fat Director, who'd been quietly sipping some tea up to that point, decided to intervene.

"Railways are no playground, Jewelie," he said. "Lots of engines had to stop suddenly because you were rushing in front of them. Do you know how dangerous that is for our passengers?"

"Sir, with all due respect…"

"Don't you dare 'with all due respect' me, young lady," said the Fat Director sternly. "You've been reckless, and endangered yourself and others."

"But…!"

"There are NO buts," said the Fat Director. "You will stop this right now, or else your career is, ahem, on the line. Need I say more?"

"No, sir."

"Good, now, would you kindly get back to work?"

"Yes sir," said Jewelie. She walked back to the ticket booth.

"You think you got through to her?" Edward asked.

"Hard to say," said the Fat Director. "Teenagers are stubborn. Just because she agreed to stop using the rail yard as a stunt gym doesn't mean she won't stop her dangerous stunts."

For the rest of the day, things flew like clockwork. Jewelie kept her word and stopped using the railway as a stunt gym, however, she spent most of the evening complaining to Conan.

"I can't believe this!" she growled. "Nothing bad happened! Why is everybody telling me to be careful?!"

"Because…you should?"

Unfortunately, that caused Jewelie to turn her ire on Conan.

"What…did you say?!"

"I said because…" Jewelie was quick to punch him before he could finish. "Ow!"

"It's because I'm a girl isn't it!" Jewelie snapped. "You think I should be protecting my fragile body!"

"And when did I ever say that?!" Conan snapped. "Look, I'm worried you might end up hurting yourself…"

"End up what?!"

"Hurting yourself…look, I know you're capable…but…"

"But you think I'm insane?!"

"You gotta admit, using a railway yard as a stunt gym is madness."

"Ok…maybe that was a little over the top…but come on! I've been cheerleading for years, and now I'm the best cheerleader in the world!"

"And where does that leave us?" Lucy asked, walking over to her with the rest of her cheerleading squad. Conan took the chance to quietly slip away.

"Tell me Jewelie, what have you been taking? On what kind of steroids are you on?" asked Lucy.

"And who said I was taking steroids?" asked Jewelie.

"It's obvious: there's no way you've been pulling off such stunts without taking drugs!"

"You calling me weak, Lucy?!" Jewelie shouted.

"There's a limit to the human body, and you've clearly passed it," intervened another.

"Rubbish! I'm as fit as ever!"

"When did I call you fat?"

"I said fit, not fat, Kelly!" snapped Jewelie. "Ah, what would you know? I've become much faster and stronger than I ever was before and I don't need to be told otherwise by weaklings like you!"

The other cheerleaders couldn't believe what they had heard!

"So that's how you see us, is it? Weaklings? Well, Jewelie, let me tell you this," said Lucy sternly. "Cheerleading is a team sport, not a competition where individuals show off. If you find us too weak to handle the task, then all of us quit."

And just like that, the cheerleaders walked away. Jewelie just stared at them.

"Fine! I don't need help anyway!" she shouted. "Conan, what were…" Stopped, realising Conan was nowhere to be seen. For the first time in a while, Jewelie couldn't help but feel lonely. "Maybe…am I being too careless?"

The thought about it stuck with her for the rest of the day.

Later, she arrived at her home, hearing the words she had been told about being too reckless in her head over-and-over again.

"Maybe they were right? No, no way… They're… They're just jealous!"

"Who's jealous?" asked her father.

"Nobody, dad," said Jewelie.

"Doesn't sound like nobody to me," her dad pointed out. "You're clearly angry about somebody. Tell me: is it Conan?"

"N-Not him."

"Who, then?"

"My friends, all of them," said Jewelie. "They're jealous I'm so much better than them at cheerleading."

Her dad said nothing for a few moments.

"Have you done anything to make them feel insecure?"

Jewelie swore she could hear someone saying, "Yes, you did."

"Maybe I did," she admitted.

"And exactly what did you tell them?"

"I called them weaklings."

"Why?"

"I…I…I don't know! I was tired of everyone telling me to stop showing off and…"

"You just burst?"

"Yes, that's it," said Jewelie. "Now my whole squad quit and Conan left me."

"Are you sure he left you? Maybe he just decided to give you some space?"

Jewelie didn't reply to this: she wasn't sure what to say.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Jewelie walked and opened it, and, to her surprise, Conan was standing on the other side, elegantly dressed.

"CONAN?!"

"Uh, hey Jewelie, I just came by to…"

Jewelie first slapped him, then hugged him crushingly.

"Dining train," managed to say Conan, "…tonight…first class tickets…urgh!"

Jewelie stopped crushing him, aware of how much first class tickets cost, especially in those days.

"Connie…how did you…"

"I've been saving for such an occasion. You're worth anything, Jewels."

"I guess I better get changed?" Jewelie asked.

"Yeah: they only allow fancy-dress on this particular dining train," said Conan. "Probably the last one for a while: rumour has it they're planning to stop running it after tonight, at least until the war is over. So, you wanna come?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

After waiting a few minutes, Jewelie came back to the front door, wearing a bright blue dress.

"You look radiant, Jewels."

"Thanks, Connie."

"Should we get going, then?"

"Lead the way, Connie."

Taking her by the arm, Conan guided her back to the station, where Thomas was just finishing shunting the coaches into the buffered platform.

"Hullo, lovebirds!" he called.

"Very funny, Thomas"," said Conan.

"Well, enjoy your date: I managed to convince the Fat Director to give you two the best seat on the train."

And with that, Thomas left the station.

"Shall we enter, my lady?"

"Of course, Connie."

Once aboard, they were escorted to their seats. Indeed they were the best among the whole train. Two menus were given to the pair, as Edward slowly backed up into the train.

Meanwhile, at the Standing Stones, Wilhelm and Wyatt had arrived with their car, the book, and a piece of paper.

"He better be here, Wilhelm"," said Wyatt.

"Oh he vill, zee Commander alvays keeps his vord," said Wilhelm. "As his second-in-command, I know zis ferry vell."

As if on cue, another car showed up. Out stepped a man dressed in an Imperial Army uniform. Two guards were with him.

"Guten Abend, meine Herren," he said. "So nice of you two to come on by."

"The pleasure is all mine, Commander Haus," said Wilhelm.

"Now to get down to business: haff you zee paper?"

"Vis zee book," confirmed Wilhelm, handing both over to the Commander. He took both and looked at the paper.

"Ja, ferry unhelpful indeed," said the Commander. "Do not vorry, you two: I schall make sure Mischter Ovens gets framedt. Vyatt! Haff you got a police uniform?"

"I'm afraid not commander," said Wyatt.

"No vorries: I happen to know zare is a dinink train runnink tonight. Sanks to some intel, I happen to know vun of zee passengers is a police officer. Vee schall derail the train here and schteal it from him."

"But why derail? Wouldn't it be easier to just force the train to stop, then board?" Wyatt asked.

"Under normal circumschtances, ja, it vouldt,'' agreed Commander Haus. "Trouble is, zare vill be usser people. If I had brought all my men, vee could sreaten zem into keepink silent. But to afoid arousink suschpicion, I could only brink two of my loyal men. Zarefore, in order to ensure zare are no vitnesses, vee muscht derail zee train."

"Surely, all fife of us could schtop zee train and board it zen?" Wilhelm pointed out. "Besides, zeez passengers haff valuables like jewelry, vee vouldn't vant to get zoze damagedt, vouldt vee Commander?"

Commander Haus went into thought about this.

"Vilhelm, you're right," he said. "Vee don't vant to damage any valuable goods zey haff on zem. Alright, vee'll do it your vay. Juscht make sure to take zee officer hoschtage: like I set, vee can't haff any vitnesses."

"Gott mi uns, Commander," said Wilhelm.

"Now that that's settled," said Wyatt, "we'll need disguises: we wear these, they're bound to realise we're Germans."

"Vee also neet code names to refer to ourselfs by," Wilhelm added. "Zare are plenty of Vilhelms and Vyatts, but Haus isn't common, eschpecially aroundt here."

"A good point, Navigator Vilhelm," said Commander Haus. "Alright, I'm Michael, generic Englisch name, ferry common. You," he turned to one of his bodyguards, "are to be referred to as Brad. And you," he turned to the other bodyguard, "are to be called Trevor. At leascht the "V" is easier to say. Regardless, ven vee rob zee train, hide your accents as much as possible: one slip of of our natiff language and vee'll be traced back to the Imperial Army."

"Gott mi uns!" shouted the bodyguards.

"And please, try not to argue vis each usser: it von't do anysink good for zis," said Commander Haus. He then turned to Wyatt. "Now, juscht so vee don't forget, how do we schtop zis train visout derailink it?"

"All trains are required to stop at a red signal," said Wyatt. "There are two types: distant and home. Home signals are painted red, they are meant to let trains know when the section ahead of them is clear or blocked. Distant signals are painted yellow, they can only show a caution aspect, but they warn the driver to slow: if the light it has is yellow, the driver must prepare to stop at the home signal ahead. In order to make a signal always turn red, we have to cut a wire connecting the arm to the light."

"Sank you, Vyatt," said Commander Haus. "Zat information vill surely come in handy. All vee need to do now is find a home signal and cut zee cable. Vile vee do zat, Vyatt, take me to your house: vee need casual clothes, as vell as maschks."

"Of course, Commander," said Wyatt.

"Vilhelm, schtay vis zeez two: I don't truscht zem not to mess up ven left alone. Zare is a chance zee train vill arrife before vee return. If it does, schtop it vis a signal and at leascht take out zee crew."

"Gott mit uns!" called Wilhelm. Commander Haus followed Wyatt back to his car and the latter drove back to his house.

"What right does he have to not trust us?!" grumbled Brad. "We're more than capable of handling things alone!"

"Never mind that, I should be Brad: Trevor sounds too feminine!" grumbled Trevor.

"Like you'd know what feminine is," said Brad. "All you do is kill…"

"BABABABABABABABABABABA!" Trevor shouted. "You're way too annoying, you little pussy!"

"I'll show you pussy, you dick!" shouted Brad.

"ENOUGH! E-fuckink-nuff!" Wilhelm shouted, stepping in between them and holding them by the heads. "Zis is vye Commander Haus doesn't truscht you two alone: all you do is try to kill each other!"

"Maybe he does, but I only kill who I need to kill!" shouted Trevor.

"So you're saying your wife needed to be killed?!" Brad shouted.

"I told you a million times: that was an accident!" yelled Trevor. "It wasn't me who poisoned her food!"

"And it's not goink to be me voo has your balls cut off if you DON'T SCHUT UP!" shouted Wilhelm. "Only reason you two are schtill vis us after our Zeppelin crasched is because you don't haff anybody else to turn back to, now schut up, or else!"

The two men huffed, and turned their backs to each other.

"I hope zare's a way to increase intelligence," groaned Wilhelm.

The operation wouldn't go as envisioned: Wyatt and Commander Haus returned, the sun was nearly finished setting by then.

"Alright men, vee got zee disguises," said Commander Haus. "Zey're in zee trunk." He got out and showed the three men who stayed behind the clothes he and Wyatt had chosen for each of them. "Now, get dressed: vee got vork to do."

Conan and Jewelie were enjoying second course as the train rolled along.

"Man, I cannot remember the last time I had food this good!" said Jewelie.

"Me neither," agreed Conan. "And here I was thinking first class was just a showoff status."

Both laughed a bit, but then they noticed something odd.

"Is it me or are we slowing down?" Conan asked.

"Yeah, I feel it too," admitted Jewelie.

Then, the coach groaned as it's front wheels left the rails, and everything came to a stop.

"Jewelie!"

She felt herself return to conciseness, her head spinning from the impact.

"Come on, Jewels, we gotta get out of here."

"Right…"

She attempted to stand up, but a sharp tug at her left foot quickly brought her back down.

Turning her head, Jewelie found out, to her horror, that her left leg had gotten stuck amidst the wreckage.

"Stuck? Impossible! I have a water bond, I should be…oh my god! I'm not invincible! Oh dear, I've been a huge jerk!"

"You can admit your mistakes later," said Conan. "Right now, we need to get you out of here."

He began to attempt to pull the wreckage apart, trying to make enough space for Jewelie to pull her leg free.

"This isn't… The evening I had planned… I'm sorry, my love."

Jewelie said nothing, repeatedly trying to extricate her leg.

Outside of the coach, pandemonium had broken out: a set of points had been moved at the worst possible second, derailing the last coach, and allowing the rest of the train to get away. Edward couldn't help but feel confused, having failed to notice his rear coach was off the rails.

"Why would the signal be red if the distant signal was set to clear?" he asked.

"Last minute danger most likely," said the driver.

"Don't you move!" called an unfamiliar voice. Haus and Wilhelm, wearing their disguises and masks, stood on both sides of the cab, aiming guns at the crew. "Now step out of the locomotive."

"Alright, alright, don't shoot us," said the driver, as he and the fireman did as they were told. After hogtying the crew to ensure they didn't try to play hero, all five boarded the train.

"EVERYBODY STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID!" Haus shouted, as people started to panic. "GIVE US ALL YOUR MONEY AND NOBODY GETS HURT!"

The five men walked down the train, taking hold of any valuable items they forced the passengers to hand over. A few resistant passengers ended up getting beaten, but nobody was killed. Eventually, they reached the last coach, where they found the police officer they were after.

"You," said Haus, "are coming with us."

"I'm an officer of the law," the man warned. "You do…" He was cut short by Wilhelm and Wyatt grabbing his arms.

"Three men against one officer isn't a win for you, now come with us, or else."

The officer had no choice but to obey as he was escorted out of the coach.

"Trevor! You go check inside the derailed coach," ordered Haus. "The rest of us will take care of our friend here."

"With pleasure, Michael," said Trevor. Immediately, he boarded the derailed coach, while Haus and the others began beating down the officer. He began firing his gun, using blanks to avoid actually killing anybody. "Unless you want actual bullets, you'll hand over everything you have!" Trevor shouted.

Everyone began to drop their valuables, except for two teens at the back of the train.

"I see we have a pair of slackers nearby!" Trevor shouted, stomping on over to them. "Hurry up and give me your loot!"

"Screw you, bastard!" shouted Conan. Trevor aimed a gun at him.

"You better take back what you said," warned Trevor. "Otherwise…" He didn't get to finish: Conan immediately kicked his hand, knocking the gun out of it. "You son of a bitch!" shouted Trevor.

Before Trevor did anything else, he noticed the predicament the girl was in.

"If I can't shoot you," he said, "I guess I'll just stomp your girlfriend! Or maybe…" he licked his lips, "I'll do some…OWWWWW!"

Conan, realising what he was going to do, immediately kicked him in the balls.

"What the hell, man?! You don't hit below the belt! That's, like, combat rule number one!"

"And what do you know about rules when you're robbing?" Conan asked.

"Not to mention, you're a fucking creep" added Jewlie

Trevor said nothing, he just groaned in discomfort.

Haus and Wyatt went over to the carriage, sensing something wrong, and were horrified to find Trevor on the floor in pain.

"Dear god, Trevor, what happened?!" asked Wyatt.

"That guy…kicked me…balls," Trevor groaned.

"Oh, did he now? We'll soon fix that."

Haus whistled, calling in reinforcements. Wilhelm and Brad boarded and all four surrounded Conan.

"You think you're a tough guy?"

"And quite the good lookin' girl he's got there~"

"Don't you dare touch her," warned Conan.

"And what will you do if we do?" asked Haus. "As far as I'm concerned, all of us outnumber you. So you just sit down and be a good little boy."

"Or else what?"

Trevor aimed his gun at him, but Conan wasn't fazed, and began trying to free Jewelie once again. Trevor fought through the pain and shot Conan in the leg.

"Conan!"

"Conan?! Wait, I've heard that name before," Wyatt realised.

"Me too," said Wilhelm. "Michael, you may want to keep this one alive: he could be useful to us."

"Screw you!" shouted Conan. "I'll never help you!"

"Maybe…or maybe, if something were to happen to this girl of yours…"

"Hold it right there!"

The guard, who had been in the brake compartment, stepped out, holding a rifle.

"You touch any of my passengers anymore, I'll give you something to happen to you," he warned. "Now scram, before I fire!"

"We got what we came for anyway," reasoned Haus. "Come on, men, let's move out!" They all exited the derailed coach.

"Jewelie…" muttered Conan… "Wake up."

She'd apparently passed out, causing him to worry even more. Said worry was only soothed by Jewelie giving his hand a squeeze.

"I'm already awake," said Jewelie. "But I'm still trapped here."

"I think I know how to free you…but, you may not like it."

"Couldn't you just lift it up?" Jewelie asked.

"Good point," said the guard, walking towards them. "He'll need help though: not sure he can do it alone."

It was lucky that none of the other passengers were injured: they had all been too frightened of being shot to interfere. Nonetheless, they were able to help the guard free Jewelie from the table and collapsed wall she was under.

"On the count of three, we lift this, and you squirm out, got it?"

"I'll try."

Conan gave her hand a squeeze, worry and hope both clear in his eyes.

"Love you, Jewels," he said.

"Right, one, two, three!" The guard and passengers lifted the table and wall up all they could, leaving nearly just enough space for Jewelie to crawl out, not that it was easy.

"Not…working…It's still…too tight!"

"Come on, Jewels!"

Conan helped to pull her as she struggled. At last, after a lot of struggle, she was free.

The young pair of lovers embraced the other, while Selena arrived with an ambulance car and a crane. The thieves had managed to escape, but Conan and Jewelie were just happy to be safe. The two would recover from their injuries.

Things didn't entirely go back to normal though: all of Jewelie's former teammates had transferred to another school, meaning she would never be able to reconcile with them. A sour reminder of watching one's mouth.

When he returned home that night, Conan would learn something…slightly disturbing from his grandfather.

"You're saying…some mysterious man visited this morning?"

"Yes…he wanted something out of me, and he said he'd hurt you if I refused."

"What would he want out of you?" asked Conan.

"Translating some book that had text in Sudrian, I just pretended to translate and sent them on their way."

"I see…"

Conan didn't like the sound of that, but he was tired, too tired to care.

After all, he'd promised to Jewelie he'd make up for their botched date as soon as he could.