Prelude • Act three - Uncertain times


The courier driver walked out to his badass motorcoach he had parked outside the bar. Danmark's was a resting place for him, his years flying became so stressful plus, he had no family or good friends who weren't already dead, the women there kept him what little company they had. Doctor Anton was friendly enough with him, but he didn't know him well or felt like he should. Greg was fine, but he had a very poor history dragging the ex-pilot through some real dogshit, especially with the Italian mafia who were Greg's family.

Commissar Clay, however, was a surprise but still just an acquaintance. Mitchell was a good drinking partner when both could meet up during a gig, or at home. He knew a few other people, especially a demihuman bird girl, a Liberi named Albany who worked as a forklift and loader operator at the railyard downtown. Her and Murdock, who was the old sixty year veteran of the rails. Murdock was one of the engineers on some of the GM&NP's largest steam engines they run, mostly doing heavy freight service and long distance passenger service. But otherwise he was alone with his dog, Paxton so he was socially estranged. The ex pilot was content being aloof, he just had no reason anymore to stay put especially in relationships that only cease one way or another like his past.

Climbing inside the matte black racing coach, he turned on the lights in the main cabin, illuminating the rather lavish living room, with a big slide for the living room, which was themed red, black and white. The couch, with a large window above it, faced a red with black striped glossy wall with an entertainment stand. Inside it on the back is a seventy inch flat screen that retracts when not in use. Further back is a kitchenette, with a full-size fridge on the left, sink and stove on the right, mini island, and black cupboards hanging on the wall. A door led into the rear section with bathroom combo washroom and bedroom. A white tile floor bringing it all together.

Going over to a small wall mounted control panel, Trex starts the diesel generator mounted under the coach, but keeps the slides on the coach retracted. The commotion awakens Paxton who fell asleep on the leather couch. "Oi Paxy! How's it goin'?" The Scotsman says, patting his head before heading into the large driver's cabin, sitting down and starting up the big racing hauler. Paxton, knowing the routine, takes his seat in the passenger side as Trex cranks the wheel left and pulls out of the parking spot before heading off towards the airport.

The driver and his pooch drive by the active runway on W. Broadway st. which parallels it. Trex looks over as the moon illuminates the airport runway as a lone 727 trijet takes off. The roar of its three turbojets make it one of the loudest airliners ever made. But to the old veteran pilot, it only brings back the past. His Co pilot, student, best friend, adopted daughter Hannah Aerosmith. Trex falls into a trance-like state, driving along as if he wasn't on a road but some void dimension. All sounds except the roar of the trijet are all he hears. The road becomes faded and everyone seems to become jaded. A slight tear rolls down the man's face, but he quickly comes back to his senses when Paxton appears licking his face, bringing him back to his senses.

Suddenly tightening his grip on the wheel, he swerves back into his lane, almost colliding into someone coming at him. Paxton nearly falls off his seat as they drift around the oncoming car, back into the lane. Trex clutching the steering wheel, and breathing heavy. The driver looked for somewhere to pull over and stop before he actually wrecked the house on wheels.

He turns off into a parking lot for private aviation next to the large apron and pointing the truck at runway 29-11. Parking the big rig, he turned off the engine, and sat back in his seat staring off into the dark mountain range beyond the runway lights. He looked down at his right hand, it's doing it again, shaking. He can't get it to stop, why won't it stop?

Her joyously happy face flashed in his mind. He can't do it. Her voice in his ears as Hannah tells him it's 'a go-go' calls out in his ears. He can't do it. Her eyes, eager to learn all his tricks and techniques. He can't do it. Then the letter, confessing why she did it. He can't do it.

"Woooaaahhh! OH FOR THE LOVE OF SAINT JAMES, I'LL FUCKING DO IT! I'LL FUCKING-IF THIS GO-DAMN HAND..! JUST STOP-JUST SHUT UP LAD! If-if fucking God himself won't save meh if I get sent back to that fucking insane asylum, I'll have to put one in myself if they try! Who will ever be there?! No one! No one lassie, can take your bloody place! Why?! Why the everlovin' fuck didn't you just tell me you got infected? We could've done things differently! You didn't have to go in such a way…! I've got nothing left here… What earth is one without you…" The ex pilot shouted in tears, only to fall against the steering wheel and cry. Paxton laid his head on his lap, whining.

The vision of Hannah flying next to him, as she smiled warmly at him before rolling the transport helicopter into the mountainside, comes back to him. It's been four years and eight months since he last flew with his only family at his side. It's been a long time sinking into madness. The pressure of over 21 years of overclocking hours, the most out of all the seniors still alive, bad flights, three crashes, and finally losing Hannah is what broke Trex. After his attempt to quit, the airline questioned his colleagues, and many who knew he was mentally unstable reported him for acts of uncontrollably screaming, maniacally laughing, and after Hannah died, possibly a suicide attempt like her. Even though most of them had similar problems, they threw him under the bus because he walked away.

After almost two years in the asylum, he was released, only to find Hannah didn't even get a proper burial. Her remains were never recovered off the mountain side. The only thing Trex got once he was released was a letter. That very letter now sits in his nightstands drawer. Trex never would trust anyone with his long history flying, stories of his ugly past, or Hannah. Greg is the only one who knew her, besides Doctor Anton, from the Canaan landship. Every year he goes to the wreck site, a three day hike through the mountains and forest, to the grave he dug and had a Granite shrine stone set onto the site. On her birthday, every September 31st.

Everything has only meagerly improved, but the waves just come at random. And his hand never could stop shaking, nor did he find a cure for it. Holding his shaking right hand still, Trex looks at the big German Shepherd and lets the big guy rest his front paws in his lap. They just sit there for the remainder of the night, waiting for the sun to arrive.


The air grew cool as the sun dipped under the distant mountains. Standing on the front porch of the Ynez family home, Mitchell leaned on the porch railing looking out at the beautiful view. He could hear Helena in the kitchen, diligently working away at making dinner.

Mitchell had attempted to offer his assistance, but Helena would have none of it, insisting on making this meal for him and her family. The soldier dutifully obeyed the master of the house, choosing to spend his time elsewhere. Little Rock was eager to drag Mitchell into playing some ATV Off-Road Fury 2 or Castle Crashers with her, but her mother told her to finish her homework first. So, with everyone currently occupied, the soldier had no choice but to wait.

Mitchell took a swig of the sweet tea Helena made him, savoring it once more. He could never get enough of it, with the recipe being something Helena learned from his mother, but with her it somehow turned out better. The soldier couldn't help but shake his head a bit in silent apology to his mother. 'I'm sorry, Ma, but with sweet tea, she's got ya beat.'

He heard the front door open behind him. "Now what are you shaking your head about?" A voice said.

Mitchell turned to see Flint joining him at the railing, the horned man's brow raised in amusement. The Teekaz man was built like an ox, standing above Mitchell by a few inches. His eyes were a fiery red like embers pulled from an open flame and his black horns were worn and chipped. In his hand was his own glass of sweet tea.

The soldier shrugged slightly at the man's question, raising his glass in emphasis. "Oh, just marvelin' at this sweet elixir Helena gave me."

"Ah, so the usual then. Not surprising, you always seem to zone out when you have a glass," Flint replied with a smirk, scratching his short beard.

Mitchell turned to the man, raising his brow. "Well, what can I say? She has a gift."

Flint nodded with a knowing hum, as he raised his glass in agreement. "That she does. It's one reason I married her."

There was a brief, companionable silence between the two as they stood and enjoyed their drinks, watching the sun dip below the mountains.

Curious, Mitchell glanced over to see Flint with a distant look in his eyes. A look he knew all too well—one of reminiscing. "Hey, you good?"

Flint nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah. Just remembering back when we first met." He leaned on the railing. "Sometimes I can't help but marvel at how far we've managed to come since back then."

Mitchell hummed in understanding. Memories of how he'd met the people he called family resurfaced—of how the first time they had met, they'd stared down the barrel of his rifle.

It had been during Mitchell's first major deployment where he'd been assigned to Santa Barbara almost ten years ago. He'd been a regular Army man back then, having been assigned there when GM&NP forces in the Santa Barbara region were being pressured by a hostile allegiance of demihuman tribes known only as the Sundowner Brotherhood. He hadn't even been that long out of boot camp before being thrown headfirst into the hellfire that was the American Southwest.

Mitchell's squad had been tasked with scouting into the Santa Ynez Valley, hoping to gain any intelligence on enemy movements in the region. Luckily, his squad managed to traverse their way through the area without much trouble. Unfortunately, the problem was they were a bit too successful in their mission, penetrating too deep into unknown territory and getting lost, so they couldn't make it back to GM&NP territory. They hadn't been assigned a locally hired Terp either, so that certainly didn't help their situation.

And that's how they met. Mitchell can still recall the moment clearly, his squad having hunkered down in a secluded spot to discuss their options when two horned demihumans suddenly emerged from the brush nearby. He remembered how close the two were about to be lit up by his squadmates, including himself, but thankfully cooler heads prevailed. Surprisingly, the two demihumans had entreated for peace, making best use of their very broken English as they could.

His squadmates weren't having it though, as they weren't willing to believe this wasn't a trap of some kind. After all, many had died due to similar encounters. Mitchell remembered what his mother had asked of him before he was sent off—to be willing to reach out a hand to someone who might need it. In that moment, Mitchell made a decision, deciding to convince the others to give the two demihumans a chance. After all, they might be able to help them get back to GM&NP-held territory.

And help them the two demihumans did. Mitchell had been assigned the duty of cooperating with the two demihumans, as he had been the one to vouch for them. 'Tar Foot' and 'White Horn' being the names of the male and female 'Teekaz' demihumans respectively as he'd learned.

The two demihumans had agreed to lead them to safety, simply asking for their protection in return. From what information he'd gotten from the two, Mitchell managed to piece together that they were from separate Teekaz clans that were once allies but now turned bitter enemies. Since they had fallen in love with each other, much like the old tale of Romeo and Juliet he'd read as a teen in the Missoula Academia. When their respective clans were angered by their actions, they had fled to the only place they could think of for protection—the strange visitors from beyond their lands that drove away their enemies with fire, thunder, and iron.

With Tar Foot's and White Horn's help, they managed to cross miles of territory unnoticed. Unfortunately, despite the demihumans' skill at navigating the region, their luck soon ran out when a band of scouts from the Sundowner Brotherhood discovered them. The ensuing fight drew too much attention, and the unlikely group of humans and demihumans were forced to fight without rest until they were rescued by GM&NP rescue chopper forces while a gunship covered them, sent out from a nearby fire base by the chaos.

After being escorted back to the fire base and getting debriefed, Tar Foot and White Horn had given critical intelligence about the Sundowner Brotherhood building up their numbers, indicating an upcoming attack in the future. Thanks to this, they were given refugee status and were allowed to take a train back to more secure GM&NP territory.

Apparently, Mitchell had made a distinct impression on Tar Foot and White Horn, as they refused to leave without him. He remembered how unused to everything the two Teekaz were, sticking to his side like puppies. Thankfully, this didn't cause any problems as Mitchell's squad was given leave for their efforts and key intelligence they acquired. And so Mitchell returned to Missoula with Tar Foot and White Horn in tow. His mother, God rest her soul, had readily taken both demihumans in until they were ready to start their new lives on their own. After being given new names to signify their entry into new and better lives, the two families had been inseparable ever since.

"Tell me about it," Mitchell agreed wholeheartedly. He takes another big swig from his glass. "I'm glad y'all are doin' good for yourselves."

Flint gave a small smile at that. "Thank you. You helped make it all possible."

Somewhat embarrassed, Mitchell could only shrug. But now that memories of past conflicts came to mind, he was reminded of the recent developments regarding the Kragen Corps. He frowned. "There's been some developments recently…"

Flint raised a brow at the sudden shift in mood, but quickly turned serious upon seeing Mitchell's expression. He knew it had to be serious whenever Mitchell was like this. "Lay it on me."

"The Kragers have been on the move in Colorado," Mitchell revealed grimly. His eyes narrowed, turning to give Flint his full attention. "We just got word today. Alamosa has fallen."

"What?" Flint asked, straightening in surprise. His worried visage was apparent. "How? Last I heard they were tied up with our forces further south!"

Mitchell shook his head. "They were, but recent intelligence showed that they've been building up their forces in Texas for a while. An' this ain't your usual modus operandi for 'em either, I can tell."

The soldier made a face. "It appears that they've been recruiting as they move through the regions. Something's tellin' me that Alamosa might've been their opening move."

"Damn," Flint growled, scowling. He took another drink to soothe his nerves. "I take it this was what that whole deployment you took to Denver was about?"

Mitchell exhaled through this nose. "Got it in one. We were sent on a scoutin' op to observe their movements. I have reason to believe the Alabhar Cabal is involved too. They had to have moved out of Nevada and Utah for this one."

Flint sighed explosively. "It just keeps getting worse and worse. Those fiends are part of it too?"

He turned to Mitchell, his expression resigned. "Do you know what their objectives are?"

"Only speculation right now, sadly," Mitchell answered plainly. He downed the remainder of his glass. "There's plans in the works on dealin' with the matter. But I'd advise y'all to be ready to act if somethin' happens."

"Of course," Flint replied seriously. He finished off his drink as well. "Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Just lookin' out for y'all."

About two minutes later, the lights of another car rolling into the driveway could be seen pulling up. Mitchell glances up and over the handrail, seeing a black Buick Encore pulling in. A pair of familiar women step out.

"Hey there, you two," Mitchell greets, a warm grin apparent on his visage. "Glad y'all could make it."

Savannah returned his smile, though it seemed apologetic. "Sorry we're late. Things got a bit hectic at work today."

"Tell me about it," Salem huffed, rolling her eyes. "We had a few oh-so-important CEOs show up later than usual and had to wait on them hand and foot."

Her tail flicked in annoyance. "Not to mention several Citadel officials showing up at the last minute."

Mitchell shook his head reassuringly. "Well, at least y'all are here now, right? That's what matters."

"I agree. Thank you for coming, girls," Flint added. He waved them up. "Come on inside, you're just in time for dinner. I'll let Helena know you're both here." With that, he headed inside.

As the girls ascended the front steps, Savannah wasted no time going in for an embrace with Mitchell. "I'm so glad you're back, Mitch."

Salem stepped around the two, wrapping her arms around Mitchell from behind, her tail curling around their legs. "Same here. It's rough knowing you're out there without us."

Mitchell almost forgot how affectionate these two were. He readily returned their warm embrace. "I know. I'd feel much better with y'all out there watchin' my back."

The brief but heartfelt moment between them persisted until Savannah finally broke the silence, pulling away with a smile. "Come on, you two. Let's go see the birthday girl."

"Agreed!" Salem hopped back with an eager grin. "That little ball of sunshine needs a hug from yours truly!"

The girls' smiles were infectious, and Mitchell joined them. "Well, let's get in there before she hunts us down then, shall we?"

The sound of little feet can be heard running through the house right as Mitchell finished his sentence. Salem smirked, her tail swaying in amusement. "Too late~!"

The door swung open, Little Rock sticking her head out to see the new arrivals. Her eyes widened in joy. "Miss Salem! Miss Savannah!"

"Happy birthday!" Salem greeted with a smile, holding her arms out for a hug. Something Little Rock was all too happy to oblige, colliding with the playful fox girl.

"I thought you wouldn't make it…" Little Rock said in relief, pulling back to give them a slight pout.

Savannah shook her head in reassurance, setting her hands on her hips. "Oh, you know we wouldn't miss this."

She held her arms out. "One for me?" Savannah barely got the words out before Little Rock swooped in for a warm hug.

Salem's tail flicked as she leaned forward, her eyes glinting in mirth. "And besides, we still need to give you our gifts~."

Little Rock's smile grew wide with anticipation. "Yes! You're forgiven!"

Mitchell smirked in amusement at the exchange. Both women had taken it upon themselves to become Little Rock's surrogate big sisters in a way, the girl's bubbly and enthusiastic nature having captured their hearts upon their first meeting. Naturally, they both spoiled her senseless.

Helena leaned into view in the doorway. "I'm glad you could make it, girls. Come on in, dinner is ready."

"C'mon!" Little Rock exclaimed. She gripped Salem's and Savannah's hands and pulled them into the house, much to the amusement of the women. "Let's eat!"

"Hallelujah," Mitchell celebrated, following after them. "Been waitin' for this all day." Helena simply smiled as she closed the door behind him.

Night began to settle as the home fell into a warm and lively atmosphere, a stark contrast to the world outside, or events transpiring. For once, Mitchell could really relax and forget about the forces at large for tonight.


Ryan awoke in the apartment of his the next morning, or he thought so. He looked around only to see he was in the most luxurious living room he had ever laid eyes upon. Then, he hears the sound of some children playing somewhere else. The smell of coffee fills his senses and looks around. The living room has a very french chateau theme to it, with modern touches.

Looking out the window, he realizes where he is, the Apgar Tower in the Capital Plaza. The tower is over two hundred seventy stories, and he must be at least a hundred stories up. He can even see the eastern exit out of the great city walls. Wondering how the hell he got here in the first place, a french soft feminine voice from behind.

"Good morning chéri, did you sleep? You made a great impression of our cat, Vivienne. I am Clay's fiancee, Charlotte."

Turning around he faces a pretty blonde haired woman, she is about six feet and built like a bodybuilder with some… extra assets. Her purple polka-dot pajamas are a bit too well at defining them as well. Ryan turns away blushing, and she laughs.

"Do not worry, I know you just met me, but I won't make a move. Unless you ask.~" She teases with a coy smile, before the sound of little feet approaches from the dining room. Two children appear, and stop to glance at the young agent.

"OHMYGOSHHESAWAKE!" The young boy of about 7 slurs in one quick sentence before, in a quick rush, tackles Ryan down onto the couch. "ARE YOU DAD'S PARTNER? CAN YOU DO KNIFE TRICKS LIKE DAD CAN? OH–CAN I SHOW YOU MY MOM'S FAVORITE GUN SHE USED IN THE ARMY?!" The young boy assaults the young agent. His elder sister attempts to run over but her mother catches her in her arms.

"Hugo, leave Ryan alone! He drank rather much last night, Chloé, go get him some breakfast! I will find papa and tell him the young lover boy is awake," She says firmly, and Hugo reluctantly gets off and leaves. Ryan sits up and realizes what happened last night. He must've got a second round of drinks, but once they headed out he must've fallen asleep in Clay's car. Slightly embarrassed he gets up.

Once they got to the highrise, he awoke and made his way drunkenly behind the senior agent and fell asleep on the couch assuming he'd been dropped off at his ratty apartment. This was actually his boss's apartment, and this was his fiance and two kids he mentioned last night. But why would he bring Ryan here? He shook it off and decided to enjoy a large cup of coffee and homemade breakfast in the meantime.

Clay stepped from the master bedroom, about five minutes later. He's not in his normal tailor suit and now in a more travel friendly uniform that is normal for field agents going abroad. This peaks Ryan a bit, since he normally never sees Clay leave abroad besides running back and forth to the Canaan landship on the days when the landship moves.

"Good morning Ryan, nice to see you up." Clay says, gabbing a cup of coffee himself. Ryan nods as he continues eating before asking what's happening.

"Hey boss, so mind if I ask you what is going on? I mean, you didn't have to bring me all the way up here to such a nice place while I was pasted bro. I mean lemme ask you, what if I got sick and hurled on the fancy carpet of yours?" He asks, a bit concerned he'd be trusted in such a nice place. Ryan for comparison lived in a cheap apartment that has his bed, bathroom, microwave and a gaming desk for his laptop on weekends when he streams to make some cash and enjoy his online following he's built up.

Clay chuckles at his worry. "As if my own two little brats hadn't done that or worse when they were toddlers? Ryan, get it through your head. You need to up your standards of life, not just because it's luxury, but for your moral and mental benefits. You can't live in your messy single bed like you do currently. Cleaning your desk is an example."

"Oh come on old man, I like my trophies! Could you really beat me in Forza horizon, or Battlefield? You know you're lookin' at a top-tier pro!" Ryan says with a cocky grin.

"You challenge me to beat you on Battlefield? I am so offended–I shall take your bet and beat you at the next game-con in a month." Clay snarks back at him with a shit-eating smirk.

Ryan chuckles and finishes his breakfast as Clay gets his. The hacker then remembers that now with his new promotion, he wonders where they will be going today and if training will go as he expects.

"So boss, you gonna drop me off at the Academia for field agent advanced training? 'Cause you know I ain't exactly a field agent, I am an electronic warfare officer at least, minus my online hacking and espionage training, right?"

Clay pauses before answering very carefully. "No. You will not start out like the other agents. Not everything the Academia teaches will… ehem, get you out of most undercover raids and missions…" He says the last part as if feeling some pain on his back.

Ryan noticed the head agent's mood change. "Care to tell? You know I am sworn to secrecy."

"Not here, not now," His eyes pointed at his family in the main room. "I already am a burden enough. I do not need to rehash such an experience until you are ready." He quietly speaks. Ryan inhaled sharply before taking a sip of coffee. Then a conversation he heard among the senior agents one time comes back.

"Haven't you heard? He is biased for a reason, that scuffed mission sent him to a place worse then the Perm 114 Gulag we found in Portland. And when we found him, he had to have most of his skin grafted back onto his legs, torso and neck. He was ninety pounds when he arrived on the Canaan!"

Could this memory have something to do with this, or was it an employee rumor being spread out of jealousy for his position, which many would kill to have. Ryan put the thought away for now and thanked Charlotte for the breakfast before Clay led him to the elevator outside the apartment.

"So… I just wanted to confirm something, run this by you. I err… Overheard some older higher ups sayin' you got a scuffed mission at one point?" Ryan asks in a hushed voice, not looking over at his senior in case he gets angry.

Clay bows his head, looking at his hands briefly. "No. It isn't some ploy to take my place. I had a… I call it 'The encounter' which occurred a long time ago. I was still a field agent, like you. Cocky, inflated ego, and a nutcase for danger. I thought I was invincible… Until.."

Clay sighed. "I was discovered. The mission itself wasn't simple. I was to spy on a USSR run base taken over by Shabhan Cult. A bunch of cannibalist beasts is what they were. They were not a threat to us at the time, we just needed what the asian proxy state of the soviets had left. Weapons, blueprints for a ICBM lower, and the bio weapon 'Rage Virus', which was on site in three hundred pound bombs for aircraft. This alone should've put me on edge. But I was invincible I thought, in and out. Nothing like my favorite adrenaline pumping missions."

Clay stopped at the elevator. "I was alone on this mission. I was only supposed to do an assessment of the cults numbers before leaving on foot, and walking forty miles off to be picked up. I decided to take matters into my own hands though. In the end, I was ratted out and spent three months in unimaginable condition."

Clay's eyes narrowed, his fists balling at the memory. "I will never trust the demihuman scum again! I know you know this but, even after discovering they're just Originum infected animals in human form the Germans created for someone to send to the meat grinder, they are just that—animals. Lab experiments! That is all you need to know… Don't ask me about this again." Clay says firmly but quietly.

The doors open and they step out. Ryan won't press anymore as he can see how tense he was even recalling the memory. At least if this special training keeps him from being put into danger, then he's all in. If anything, this is exciting to the CFI hacker. But he catches himself, 'I was cocky' replaying in his mind.

Clay stops suddenly, and looks at Ryan dead straight. "And Ryan, never leak those Schutzstaffel files. Ever. Chaos will follow if you do. I don't need you to start a fourth world war, that information stays with you until you die or I'll drag you to hell myself, garçon." He hushed before continuing through the lobby. Ryan nodded wordlessly and followed the Commissar.

The pair walk out of the tower and outside where the sportscar waits with a valet standing next to the door, handing Clay the keyfob. Clay tips the man, and the two get in. Clay speeds off heading out of the Plaza with Ryan by his side. The morning streets are busy today with school buses and parents taking children to the Academia downtown.

"So where are we going? Flight or train to some unmarked facilities?" Ryan asks as they cruise through the streets.

"No, nothing like that. You'll see once we get there. You will enjoy this much better than some petty books and a shooting gallery." Clay's normal flair is back, and he smirks.


"Ahh! Wha' the-!" Trex suddenly awoke to his phone's alarm going off as he looked up from the steering wheel. He somehow managed to doze off briefly before sunrise with Paxton in his lap before the sun rose. Turning it off, he rubs his face and stretches before looking out on the rather quiet apron of the airport. Rather nice for once since otherwise he might have a heart attack if he goes into shock from a flashback. His phone rings and he looks down at it, seeing that it's old Murdock, the senior engineer on the Great Missoula & Northern Pacifica Railway. Murdock has been doing some military transport in mixed freight runs for the military and PMC's, due to an increase in issues outside the border, so it's rare he gets a call from the older man.

"Oi, oi, this is Trex?" He says in a tired voice. A hoarse raspy voice comes through, like a smoker but if they smoked ten packs a day for sixty years.

"How'd' Viking, 'is 'ere old man wanted to see if you're in town and ask you if you could drop by. I got'ta free ticket for two at the 'Bulldog Bar & Grill' in Whitefish! You know you want it! I'll be released from this train and we can get a good brew that ain't diesel or piss!"

Trex chuckles softly. "Oh~ho. Does that mean I got'a pay for a ride up though?"

"Hell naw, you gotta free cab ride in #2030, on me! You haven't ridden in something this large yet!" The older man says encouragingly. "Oh hey, Albany will be at the old roundhouse to help unload the ass-end's boxcars, and she'd love to see your mug again. Damn near two weeks she last saw you." The big man says, Trex sighs and agrees.

"Alright! I'll pick you up at the freight depot at the South Reserve and Brooks intersection, just park in the FairBridge Inn's lot across the way. We're gonna be facing northeast when you see us coming in, we'll stop before we street run through town and head north before the wye, where we'll head due west to Whitefish," Murdock says before hanging up. Trex feeling somewhat better now, starts the coach up and drives out towards downtown. Paxton wagging his tail very happily, now that his master isn't a crying mess. Trex smiled and patted his head, before getting up and preparing for the day.

After making it downtown, and parking across the busy highway from the train tracks that went through the city southeast, Trex makes himself a little breakfast and feeds Paxton before letting him out on a leash. Paxton turned a lot of heads, since he's larger than average German Shepherds. His long coat also had a nice shine to it. A testimony to his maintenance routine of giving Pax a good wash every so often when he goes to the Clark Fork river to let him play.

As the two made their way across the street, the cantilever lights and gates began to come down, and the pair waited in the parking lot for a tire shop on the north side of the tracks. The rails themselves began to hiss and ring slightly. The echo of the shrill five chime brass whistle can be heard with a thunderous woohing as the black silhouette of the second largest machine on wheels made its glorious appearance.

The almost, one hundred forty foot steam engine, was one of only two R-2 class articulated steam locomotives found in Minnesota on an abandoned deadline–at least the account Murdock said along with a few other smaller types of Great Northern railway power to be scrapped God knows how long ago. The engine had a single lead wheel set followed by four sets of huge 70" drivers powered by massive cylinders, followed by another set of driving wheels, with a trailing bogie under the cab. This identified the machine as a "Chesapeake" type. The huge pilot above the lead wheels had two large metal boxes on it, for sand, with stairs on both sides leading up the pilot to the enormous smokebox door.

Mounted on the door are two sets of steam powered air pumps that breathe like a living metal monster of some kind. The dark green boiler towers over the drivers powered by four sets of cylinders, two on each side. Making around over one hundred seventy thousand pounds of tractive effort or, about three hundred thousand horse power. Enough to pull a seven mile long train on level track.

The cab alone sat almost three stories up, and sat behind a firebox that's big enough to park his large duel level trailer alongside his pickup. The weight of this Iron Whale alone must top six hundred tons in Trex's quick thinking mind. The iron giant stopped right before the major intersection, which started to back up with morning rush-hour traffic.

A large gray haired, stout man with a plump soot and oil covered face, looked down from the gangway between the large cab and massive tender. His denim overalls, and green flameproof jacket are covered as well in soot, ash, and heavy oil. The black tender displayed the red and green GM&NP logo in a circle with a colored painting of the Bitterroot valley the city sat in. It had an odd tank shape to it, reeked of sludge like Bunker fuel oil and water.

"Sorry we're running late, damn near broke four knuckles coming north with this miserable fuel tanker drag! Hey, is that rag with legs ol' Paxy?!" The big man shouted, over the roar from the firebox and the whine of the two steam turbines that generate power, known as the dynamo. Paxton barks once in response and spins around in a happy circle. The man gave a hearty belly laugh at the sight.

"Aye! You don't suppose the old lad could come along for the ride eh?!" Trex shouted back. Murdock eyes the jump up, a bit hesitant. "Come on, boy. Jump up!" Trex commanded.

Paxton immediately took a rush at the narrow ladder and doorway, jumping halfway up about ten feet before using the ladder to kick off the final bit onto the gangway.

"Holy shit, he damn near cleared the height of my fence on my farm! God damn, what a dog! Come on now, let's see old Trex do that now!" Murdock, taken aback, roared down at the Scottsman. His young fireman and senior brakeman appear through the fireman's window to jeer on Trex like a dog mockingly.

Trex shaking his head, flipped the two off. He turned around for a moment for suspense, before running at full speed in the cab. Murdock looked on in surprise as Trex jumped up and caught the third rung on the ladder and pulled himself up in one swift motion the last two rungs.

"Aye! You forgot, never challenge a bloody Viking to any physical test! Haha!" Trex mockingly flips off the other two before giving Murdock a firm handshake. Both other crew members watched, still in shock. Murdock grinned before heading back to the engineer's seat on the right of the blazing hot cab.

"Alright, let's get this big bitch a'rollin'!" Murdock shoutedand the other two quickly took their places once again.

To the uninitialized, the cab of a steam locomotive can be a terrifying experience, glaring at you through three peepholes in the two large firebox doors, is the almost blue-white inferno of fuel oil shaking and shuddering inside. If you wanna speak to anyone, you had to shout to make yourself heard. The smell was overwhelming, almost unbearable to anyone not used to hot metal, oil smoke, and superheated steam.

Trex took a jumpseat behind Murdock, while Paxton went back to the left side and stuck his head out the door, panting already from the heat. Trex also took out his phone and attached it to the side of the cab below the large window with its folding magnetic case.

"Alright big girl, let's go!" Murdock shouted before pulling the whistle lever twice, pushing the long Johnson bar in front of him on the floor forward, then pulling the throttle lever coming down off the roof back towards his head slightly. Yanking on it to ease the pressure in the huge cylinders up without literally sucking the fire out the stack. A loud whoosh is heard followed by what sounds like an artillery gun going off inside the stack. BANG–BANG-BANG–BANG this goes on as the enormous articulated R class picks up speed from a dead stop, dragging the long freight load behind it.

'Fuckin hell this is loud, my ears are gon'a bleed! Jesus, I had no idea this was so bloody big, it's heavier than Zofia's bloody jumbo jet-!' Trex says to himself mentally. Murdock pulls the whistle lever again in the, two long, one short, one long, sequence as they cross through the middle of the large four way intersection of Brooks Street and South Reserve. Many drivers were already being very impatient and honking at the train that stopped for no reason apparently. Although they didn't see the two extras climb up the left side.

Trex looked down on the smaller cars and trucks next to them being dwarfed, and was surprised to see a familiar face with a demihuman family through the open sunroof of a red Highlander among the long line of waiting cars. They must be taking him out for a get together or something since he's off on leave.

He wonders if this isn't that 'Ynez family' he keeps talking about so highly when they're at a bar or club. He is going to have to swing a text by him once he's off the train since he can't remember at the moment. Even if he tried, the absolutely earthshaking ride won't allow it. His brain is too fried after last night to concentrate.

"Must have finished up his contract and be on leave already. I should send him a pic once I am at the Bulldog, he'll be very jealous! Heh, my my, I guess I'm not the only one on some trip outside the walls! I bet he'd enjoy this experience over a four hour road trip. Shame the drive is so boring, I would sue whoever planned the road if his lanky arse was around," He mutters to himself, giving them a light wave at them from above. Glancing back over, his big dog is busy barking a storm even though no one can actually hear him. The fireman begins to add more oil to the firebox, as they pick up speed and gives a 'thumbs up' at Trex.

The long train makes its way downtown through the suburbs and industrialized district, before crossing the Clark Fork River and making it to the Wye at the south end of the long freight rail grabbed the radio mounted on a stand next to his large control stand to his left.

"Missoula yard master, this is train R-2660, entering yard limits and heading due east on main two!" He roars out over the two-way.

The railyard dispatch then reeled off a list of orders and cautions, eerily reminiscent of air traffic control to Trex during his years flying, and he shook his head slightly at the flashbacks. Checking over the side, his phone is still there and recording the experience. It'll be nice to have a story worth telling once in Whitefish. After all, something always happens with Murdock's crew that's worth telling.

"R-2660 proceed main two northbound, at yard limits. Do not exceed twenty-five miles an hour, and watch for all yard crew activities. Once out on main two, gates will be opened for you. Good luck." Murdock eases the lumbering giant around the left turn on the wye, before joining the main line on the right side of the railyard and heading to Kalispell about four and half hours away.