Miss Pauling was slowly awoken by gentle rumbles; nothing like the violent tremors that felt like just a few moments earlier. The rumbles were accompanied by a soft squeaking sound; they almost sounded like rail tracks. Was she on a train?
Miss Pauling opened her eyes and lifted her face from the burgundy wooden floors. Booths and luggage surrounded her along either side, confirming her suspicions. But something didn't feel right. Despite the amount of luggage, there were no people in the cart except for the Mercs, who like Miss Pauling, lay still on the floor. A pulse check thankfully confirmed that they all were alive, just fast asleep.
Questions swamped through Miss Pauling's mind.
Why are we on a train?
Who is Merasmus's friend and why does he need souls?
What did he mean by challenge?
Where is this train taking us?
Not wanting to sit on the questions alone, she approached the nearest Merc. Well, the nearest Merc that wasn't Scout; she wasn't that desperate for someone to talk to. Not like Scout would talk to her anyway, he'd more so talk at her. She assumed Spy would be the easiest one to wake up.
But when she shook the Frenchman, he barely stirred. She shook him harder and yelled his name. Nothing; Spy wasn't waking up. She tried to wake up Medic next, then Engineer. The same methods failed. This made her more nervous then she already was. These three were the lightest sleepers of the Mercs, normally they would wake up at the slightest nudge. She was finally desperate enough to try to wake up Scout.
"Scout?, SCOUT WAKE UP" She shouted, violently shaking the Boston runner. She even poured water in his face, hoping that waterboarding him would get some reaction. But once again, her efforts were in vain. Scout dozed with his face soaking wet.
The Mercs would be out cold no matter what she did. Miss Pauling had to give up on the Mercs for now. She turned her attention to the door. There had to be some way to unlock it. She had emergency lock picks in her purse but there could very well be someone guarding the door who might hear her fiddling with the knob. She looked out the window to check.
The cart on the other side looked no different from the one she was in, except for the fact there were people sitting in the booths. She remembered that Merasmus said his friend wanted more souls. Guess these were other people headed towards this challenge, whatever that could mean. Everyone there looked to be asleep as well. Miss Pauling came to a realization. If everyone is supposed to be asleep, then that could mean….
The door was unlocked the whole time. She stepped into the cart. As she wandered down the aisle she took a gander at the strangers dozing in their booths.
A man wearing a business suit and glasses, a blond woman in a pilot jacket, a redhead in grey overalls and an older gentleman sporting an impressive mustache. Other than the fact they were perhaps dressed a bit old fashioned, there wasn't anything that stuck out about the people asleep in this cart.
Except for the fellow near the end. While most everyone else was wearing muted, earthy colours, this man was decked out in bright yellow robes, accented with golden bracelets and red and blue beads. Miss Pauling could help but stop for a brief moment to stare at the ornate details of his outfit.
She entered another cart full of slumbering passengers, but this one didn't have a door at the end. Instead, piles of luggage were stacked on top of each other to form a tunnel and at the end of the tunnel was a single glowing moth. It emitted a blue light rather than gold and after a while, it disappeared. Despite this one not approaching her, Miss Pauling still got the sense that it was trying to get her attention.
Despite her better judgment, (considering what had happened with its golden cousins) Miss Pauling decided to follow. Walking further into the tunnel where the moth was, she found a doorway to her right.
Upon entering she immediately felt whiplash at the sudden change in her location. She was now in a room made entirely out of decrepit beige planks, floors were lined with tables that held various woodworking tools and projects.
This place….this wasn't the train anymore.
A gravelly voice bellowed in her direction.
"YOU, I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE!"
Miss Pauling turned to see who had just yelled at her and was met with an horrific sight. A completely naked pale man holding a kassara approached her, spikes impaling his torso and left thigh and his flayed back held open by a rusty metal apparatus. Blue face paint emphasized his eyes that bulged as they met hers.
"Just where do you think you ran off to?" he demanded, "Don't you understand the hurry that we were in?"
"Huh?" Miss Pauling could only respond in sheer shock and horror.
"Nobody expects you to understand," shouted the man in response. "You're a stupid fucking human after all. Now GET YOU ASS BACK TO THE WORKBENCH!"
Miss Paulling yanked her arm away from the man when he attempted to grab it.
"Hey, back off!" She shouted.
"Gyah, a feisty one we have here, WELL WE CAN DO IT THE HA-"
A bullet to the head cut him off. But he barely even flinched. His glare towards her intensified.
"You dumb fucking humans all think they can save themelves with a puny little gun," he mocked before swinging his weapon at Pauling. She was able to dodge the attack and slip behind him. As much as she didn't want to make contact with his exposed back flesh, she did so nonetheless to secure the chokehold. That didn't stop the bastard from landing a hit with his kassara that cut the left side of her face and knocked off her glasses. She retaliated with a knee to his exposed nutsack.
"ARGGHHH YOU FUCKING BIT-"
In a burst of adrenaline Miss Pauling snapped the man's neck. The kassara slipped out of his hands as his lifeless body slumped on to the ground. Soldier would be proud.
She fell to her knees to take a moment to catch her breath, although the moment didn't last very long before the gash that bastard had left her started to hurt. Really hurt. The pain became so severe that she could barely focus on looking for her glasses.
A woman in a pink dress walked up to her. She placed the glasses back on Pauling's face, then helped her back on her feet. She made a gesture suggesting that Pauling should follow before sprinting off into a hallway. Miss Pauling ran after her.
This lady was the first person she had encountered since waking up in this strange place that wasn't asleep or trying to murder her. By this point, she had more than a few questions to ask.
She stopped. She was no longer in the workshop. In every direction cloaked figures sat upon massive tables, whispering amongst each other, but not a single word could be made out. Her head started pounding, not from her wound but deep within her brain. Wherever she was, she was not supposed to comprehend what was going on. She felt her sanity rapidly slipping away from her. Her ears rang as she fell to her knees.
As quickly the sensation overcame her, they faded. She found herself once again in a new place; on top of a tower that scraped the green tinted night sky. Near the edge was a man dressed in green jester-like attire. He stood before the moon, who seemed to observe the situation with its four black eyes.
"Ah there you are" the jester spoke in a monotonous voice at the woman. "Pulled you out of that nasty place. You were going deep into that rabbit hole,"
He gestured towards her, "Rejoice, as just this one time, my master has chosen to clean your dress and mend your wounds, including that gash on your forehead the Janitor left you,"
Miss Pauling checked; the injury was gone, as were the bloodstains left on her outfit. It was as if her encounter with the crazed man welding a kassara never happened. The jester continued,
"Welcome to the Moon Tower. I take it you have been through a lot in the past hour or so. Please, take a moment to catch you breath under the safety of his beautiful green hue"
"What's going on?" she asked "Who are you? And who is this mas-"
"Shhhhhhh" he softly interrupted, wagging his finger, "One at a time my dear"
Pauling sighed, "What is going on here?"
"My dear, my master has gifted you the opportunity of a lifetime"
"Your master?"
"Yes" the jester directed her attention to the ever watching moon, "Since his words cannot possibly reach us on their own, I, the humble servant of his majesty, speak on his behalf,"
"The moon is your master?"
"He is indeed. He is beyond our comprehension, but for the purposes of this conversation, let's just say he is the delinquent one - Rher, the Trickster Moon God."
The jester's face then shifted to a expression of cringe,
"I understand where you're from, the moon is just some giant floating rock you people tried to send a monkey to."
That last sentence made everything click for Miss Pauling.
"WAIT A MINUTE," she shouted, "You're the friend of Merasmus who wanted extra souls, weren't you?!"
"My master wished for more souls" The moon's servant corrected her all too calmly, "All though I was the one who told him to get more souls and I suggested the moth thing to him, so you are technically correct; the best kind of correct. And I must say I am pleased with how many of you he managed to gather. Fourteen contestants have now become twenty-four!"
Now, Miss Pauling had some of her questions answered, but some of the answers she received just left more questions in their wake.
"So, Jester," she started to interrogate.
"I have a name," the man replied before it dawned on him, "Oh silly me, I never told you. You can call me Per'kele."
"So Per'kele," Miss Pauling started again, "What's this challenge you or your master wants us to do?"
"Ah, I was waiting for you to ask," Per'kele chucked. "The Festival of Termina is upon us; you, your companions and fourteen others have been invited to a jubilee of cosmic proportions."
"The Festival of Termina?"
"Yes, it is the festival to end all festivals, a ceremony where my master bestows humans, such as yourself, a chance to peek at grandeur and reach to illustrious heights."
Per'kele's expression turned sinister,
"However only the sole victor will be allowed this opportunity."
Per'kele gleefully watched the realization hit Miss Pauling. She stared at him with a mix of shock and horror on her face.
"I'm not doing this," she finally cried out, "I am not killing my team. not for you, your weird moon, or Mersamus,"
"I suspected you lot would be a stubborn bunch, but my master doesn't give options, and to be frank, neither do I. I know this has already been a lot to take in, so I won't burden you with any more information at this moment. Just head towards the Moon Tower, that all you need to know"
Miss Pauling felt like she ought to know a bit more about what she and the mercs had just been thrown into, but Per'kele was no longer taking questions.
"Let us meet again under the moonlight, Miss Pauling."