Petals of the Chrysanthemum
Prologue: One Way Ticket:
November 15, 1920:
The fields of green were a blur as the train sped past them. A young man seated in the center of the train's second to last passenger car watched them pass with disinterest before returning his emerald eyes to his book. The passenger car was sparsely populated, only a few other occupants filling the seats. The only sound in the car was that of the train wheels rolling over the tracks below. It had been like this for the last few hours, all the noisy passengers departing the train at the last stop. The few that remained either had their faces buried in books or were fast asleep.
Placing the book down in his lap, the young man raised his arms up above his head, stretching his tired muscles. He'd been on the train for about ten hours now, and he was growing quite weary of it. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes. He yawned as slipped his glasses back on, his gaze returning to the window. In the distance, he could just make out the skyline of a city. He wasn't sure what it was, but he'd worry about that once he arrived. His only concern now was getting as far as he could from New York City.
His ears twitched at the sound of the car door opening. It was quiet, nearly drowned out by the sound of the train's wheels, but his feline ears easily picked it up. He slowly peeked over his shoulder, being as discreet as possible. The human couple in the seat next to the door were still sound asleep, completely oblivious to the three man who just walked in.
The two in front, both orange tabbies, strolled down the aisle and sat down a few seats behind him. The third man, a human, sat down across from the tabbies. All three were dressed in fancy suits and thick coats, ones he recognized. Letting out a sigh, he closed his book and stuffed it inside his bag. Digging though his things, he pulled out his favorite pen. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. He knew fighting them here wasn't smart, so for now, he pretended they didn't exist.
The green fields were replaced by a vast river, the rough current visible even at their speed. The early morning sun was now starting to peek over the clouds, casting a warm, yellow glow over the water. There was a time in the young man's life where he would've considered it beautiful, but that time had passed.
The passenger door opened again, the sound just as quiet as before. Footsteps slowly moved down the aisle, heading straight towards his seat. This time, the young man ignored them and kept staring out the window. Through the reflection, he watched as a tiger, dressed in a long, black coat, sat down in the seat across from him. The young man tried to ignore him, but he could feel the tiger's eyes on him. Or eye, rather. The tiger's reflection showed his head facing forward, but his right eye bored in the young man.
The young man gripped his pen tightly, unsure of what to make of the tiger. The way he stared at him sent chills through his body. He knew the other three men were after him, but was the tiger after him, too? Scooting closer to the window, the young man continued to stare at the tiger through the reflection. The city was closer now, giving him some hope. If he was quick enough, maybe he could escape in the chaos of the station. He would lose his luggage though, though his life was more important.
The train pulled into the station fifteen minutes later, but for the young man it might as well have been hours. A loud squeal filled the car from the train's brakes, the sound grating on the young man's ears. The train slowly came to a stop at the edge of the station platform, followed by a loud hiss and a thick cloud of steam from the brakes.
The tiger stood up from his seat, pulling a large, black cloth from his coat pocket. Setting down on the seat, the tiger walked toward the front of the car and exited into the station. Confused by his actions, the young man glanced at the tiger's empty seat, studying the cloth he left behind. After a few seconds, he spotted something. Sticking out from under the cloth was the wooden grip of a revolver. The young stared at the gun, his blood running cold. Did the tiger know?
A cough from behind him caught his attention. It was then he remembered the three men. The two cats stood from their seats, staring daggers at him. The human moved to the aisle, shoving a hand into his coat. The young man glanced back at the revolver. He didn't want to kill anyone, but it seemed he didn't have a choice.
Jumping across the aisle, the young man grabbed the revolver. Surprised by his sudden movement, the human jumped back, pulling a FN 1910 from his coat. The young man rolled onto his side and fired, the round flying past the human's head. Moving behind a seat, the human fired his 1910, the bullets lodging in the wall of the passenger car.
Letting out a puff, the young man moved to the edge of the seat, aiming at the seat the human hide behind. He fired a second time, the .38 caliber round punching through the seat, striking the human in the gut. A cry of pain echoed through the car. By now, the remaining passengers fled, several of them screaming for the police. He needed to end this now.
Cocking the hammer, the young man scooted to the edge of the seat, peeking around it. A bullet struck the wooden frame, sending splinters into his face. Wiping them from his fur, he looked up just in time to see one of the cats aiming his 1910 at him. The young man leapt across the aisle as the cat fired, the bullet going low and hitting the wounded human in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, gripping the wound with his hand.
"Bill, you just shot me!" he cried, "You stupid son of a bitch!"
"Sorry Jonas!" Bill shouted, firing at the young man's seat.
The bullets collided with the back of the seat, unable to penetrate the thick wood. The young man waited, tightly clutching his revolver. Two more rounds hit the seat, followed by the sound of an empty magazine hitting the floor. The young man leaned over the seat and fired, hitting the cat in the head.
A cloud of blood and brain exploded from the back of his head, some of it hitting the other cat in the face. He frantically wiped the blood away as the first cat fell to the floor. The young man fired his fourth round, hitting the cat in the abdomen. He fell back against the wall, clutching his wound. Before the young man could finish him off, the cat raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
The young man fired into the floor as the bullet flew past his face. He took cover behind the seat as the other cat fired the remainder of his magazine. Hearing the firing pin click on an empty chamber, the young man leaned over the seat and sent a round right between the other cat's eyes. His body twitched several times before going still.
The young man lowered the revolver, his hands shaking as the adrenalin starting to wear off. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. Before he could dwell on it, he heard a whistle and shouting from outside. Looking out the window, he saw numerous police officers rushing toward the train.
Grabbing his bag, he took one last look at the carnage. The two cats were lying lifelessly at the back of the car, puddles of blood forming beneath them. The human was still writhing on the floor, groaning in pain. Since he made no effort to grab his gun, the young man decided to spare him. He flipped the revolver in his hands and used the butt to smash the window.
Tossing his bag through the shattered glass, he climbed from the car and onto an adjacent set of tracks. He ran across the tracks, hiding behind a freight car. Taking a quick peek at the other train, he could see the officers swarming the passenger car. The young man turned and headed away from the station, climbing a fence on the far side and disappearing into an alley. He quietly walked through it, occasionally peeking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. While his attention was focused behind him, he bumped into something, the impact startling him. He tripped over himself and fell backwards onto the ground. He groaned in pain before sitting up. He looked up at what he bumped into, and the sight made his blood run cold.
Standing above him was the tiger from the train. The young man raised the revolver, the barrel pointed at his chest. The tiger seemed unfazed, staring down at him with a blank expression on his face. The young man climbed to his feet, his gaze never leaving the tiger. He tilted his head in amusement when the young man cocked the hammer.
"Who are you?" he asked. The tiger stayed silent, his expression never changing.
"I asked you a question," the young man said, keeping his voice neutral despite his fear.
The tiger continued to stare at him, his eyes bored into his soul. The young man grew more unnerved by his vacant gaze. They stared this way for a few moments before the tiger took a step forward. The young man backed away, now gripping the revolver with both hands.
"Back up!" he said, "I'm warning you!"
The tiger ignored his commands and took another step towards him. The young man responded by squeezing the trigger. A click echoed through the alley, the tiger stopping in front of him. The young man lowered the revolver, staring at it in confusion. He pulled the trigger a few more times, getting the same result. He returned his gaze to the tiger, who was holding out his hand. Though he never spoke, it was clear what he wanted. With a sigh, the young man placed the revolver in the tiger's hand.
"You should learn to count," he said. The young man scoffed.
"Maybe I should," he muttered, "Who are you? How'd you know about those men?"
"I know people," the tiger replied.
"That is not an answer!" the young man hissed, reaching into his bag.
The tiger raised a hand, showing he wasn't a threat. The young man relaxed a little but was still wary about him.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, "I'm here to make you an offer."
"Offer?" the young man questioned.
"Yes," the tiger replied, putting his hands behind his back, "I have this...business, one some people consider, unsavory." Though he didn't elaborate, the young man had an idea on what this 'business' was.
"As such, I've been looking for some...loyal employees," the tiger continued.
"Is that why you were following me?" the young man asked.
"Exactly," the tiger replied, "I could see you ran into some trouble, and I thought you could use a place to lay low."
"You could say that," the young man sighed.
"I can provide a place to stay, protection, anything you need," the tiger said.
"I guess I don't have a choice," the young man said.
"You can still walk away," the tiger said.
The young man thought for a moment. He'd only taken his last job to help his family after his father. It brought them good money, but he'd made a lot of enemies. He glanced down at the gun in the tiger's hand, what happened on the train flashing in his mind. There was no going back now.
"No," he said, "Not after what I've done."
"You did what you had to do," the tiger said.
"Did I?" the young man asked.
"Of course," the tiger replied, "Do you really think those men would've let you go?" The young man didn't respond. The tiger gave a small nod.
"So, what's your answer?" he asked.
"What will you have me do?" the young man asked in response. A small smile appeared on the tiger's muzzle.
"Now that's a good question," he said, extending his hand, "I'm Atlas May."
"Mordecai Heller," the young said, shaking his hand.
"Well Mister Heller," Atlas said, "Welcome to Saint Louis."
He released Mordecai's hand before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small object and placed it in Mordecai's palm. It was a small, club-shaped pin.
"And welcome to Lackadaisy."
Author's Note: So, here's the prologue to POTC. This is probably the quickest chapter I've ever written, taking about two weeks. After this is posted, I'm to start on MHWA, hopefully getting chapter 7 out before next year. I don't know when I'll have chapter one posted, but it'll most likely be early next year. In the meantime, please enjoy the prologue. Constructive criticism welcome.