Sakku's hall of snippets and recursive goodness

[Sakku]

"Is everything at work alright?" was what pulled him out of my reverie. He nearly choked on the stir-fry leftovers they had for breakfast. Thankfully it was shrimp.

He didn't know if he could handle meat.

"What was it, Chae-Yeong?" He said, grabbing some water and downing it to clear my pipes.

"I don't know. You seem distant since you finally are out of the trial period. Are you doing alright?" She looked at him with her big black eyes with clear concern, and as always, when he felt like lying to her, he looked at her right in the eyebrow, like he would a stranger.

"I'm fine. It's just… you know how working for a Wing is. First incident in recorded history six months ago… they're on our asses right now," He blurted out the answer, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Hm," she grunted, clearly unsatisfied.

"Maybe if someone would give me enough sleep, I'd have a better performance review at work…"

It was her turn to choke and to turn beet red, she drank with desperation to clear the congestion in her throat. He chuckled, he still had it. He finished and put the dishes in the washer before walking to the door.

"Get me those Andong Jjimdak from the little shop near your office!" She shouted while he was putting his shoes on and grunted in confirmation. He knew exactly which one she was talking about. It was the one the visitors would enjoy to get access to some District 23 street food. It wasn't the District of flavor for nothing.

He wasn't a native. Not like her. When he managed to get into this Nest, six months ago, the only thing that made him stay was the promise of gainful employment and safety. Now, it was her, only her. Four months ago, he had cleared the written and physical exams somewhere ahead of the pack. He'd been informed about it three weeks ago, as he was still working in the convenience store where he met her. They had a two-week training program.

Two weeks ago, he watched some tapes and memorized three employee manuals that made Chae-Yeong's need for physical affection a much-welcomed escape.

He emerged from their relatively comfortable study apartment to the actual corridor of their complex. The smell of smoke and distant rot, mixed with the remnant of his meal, assaulted his nose. He frankly didn't care. It was better than out there, on the backstreets, where piss, the acidic tang of garbage and the greasy cling of dead bodies dominated.

No need to worry about that though. It was always humid in District 23, with all the vapor coming from the kitchens and restaurants, especially at this time of day. The very dawn was when the kitchens preparing themselves for the lunch rush were beginning their preparations. Washed down in blue light, he'd never guess that the sun was soon to rise. The high-rise made it almost impossible.

He only had forty minutes of walking to do in the most crowded part of the streets, looking discreetly behind his back, to find his way towards the biggest, most important building, the one where two proud arrows of azure crossed and formed a W.

He sighed. It was likely that he wouldn't be seeing the sun setting either that workday. Shame.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the automatic door. They opened, he entered.

He had to blink away the sudden change in color, or rather in light level. Dull blue neon light was replaced by the energetic white of a sanitized train station and the constant movement of people. Him? He wasn't going in the trains. Nope.

He made a beeline for a door marked with "employees only", scanned his employee card, and entered. Of course, the card wasn't actually linked to his clock. He'd only be fully clocked in when he'd be in the full W.corp cleanup crew panoply, which included another internal identifier that would then let him pass the Cleanup crew only doors. Then, and only then, would he be able to clock in, which is why he'd needed to do that quickly.
Chit-chat would only happen on the company's dime, while he was being productive. He saluted some people idly passing by, and went to the locker room. Frankly, divesting himself didn't take that long. The standard W.corp Cleanup crew panoply was also thankfully made of pretty good fabric and plates. A cap, a long shirt, a necktie, gloves, pants, a belt, combat boots, and some pouches for equipment, ammo, and first aid. All in the black, gray, and blue of the company.

He retrieved his trade tools, their holster secured to his belt. He let the identifier on his assigned body armor open the door for him, and he was in.
Once again, to be in a world completely awash with blue.

"Confirming: L1 Agent, Paris, present on the platform. Next train arrival in… 200 seconds. Please join your team at dock 7A"

7A?! That was literally on the other side of the facility. Oh no.

He ran like hell. Of course, he was clocked in, but his performance rating was still very much at play there! He couldn't afford to be fired, never!
"Caution: L1 Agent Paris, please check in at Dock 7-A. Next arrival in 150 seconds," he heard the clerical voice follow him through the PA system.
He growled, keeping as much of his breath as he could allow himself to while raging against the absolutely gigantic architecture of polished metal floors and blue neon lights he had to navigate. In another reality, he would be thankful that his job kept him physically active. It made it almost worth it. Almost.

"Caution: L1 Agent Paris, please check in at Dock 7-A. Next arrival in 90 seconds," he heard again when the ghost of a smile crept on his features, killing it instantly.

He had finished traversing the Dock 6 ensemble, eight linked docks where he could already see people prepare for the morning rush. His team was in view. He could see one of his teammates wave his hands towards him.

The whole new feather sprinted and high-fived the waiting arm of his senior, who giggled at the rolling eyes of his new chief. Personally, he also found the unnaturally positive, and dare he say immature, attitude of his colleague to be irritating. But it was his senior. And as a junior, it was one of his responsibilities to indulge his more experienced colleagues.

"Hey there, buddy! Ready for a brand new day?" L2 Warp Corp clean-up crew agent Candide asked him completely genuinely. Paris had known him for only a week and couldn't fathom the taller man to ever be ironic… Or be anything other than the human incarnation of a Golden Retriever.

"I can try," answered the newbie, shaking his head and saving his breath. He had… 70 seconds before the next train appeared, and it would be a pretty high-intensity marathon as soon as the doors opened.

"Almost late," she who he would call his boss touted. She was a bit taller than him, though he frankly didn't mind. He was middling in height, always had been, and was used to seeing people taller and smaller than him. Impeccably dry-cleaned clothes and polished armor, she was the pigtailed corporate drone he needed to watch out for. Well, not really. He was just sure that she was some sort of tattletale. She had been one of the people responsible for the newbie's orientation and formation, meaning that he got to know her for three weeks.

His high score on the entrance exam had warranted her attention. Had he known, he would have tried to be middling there too, or refuse.

"Jeanne-nim, the company manual does mandate that an agent of the W Corp's clean-up crew isn't late to care for their passenger before thirty seconds ante-arrival-"

"Provided that the highest-ranked employee doesn't also want to modify the team roster one day prior, which I did by adding another one of the 'promising' recruits of this batch, which gives us fifty seconds ante-arrival, as per Motion 5 of Article 3 of the last edition of the employee's manual, as found in the fifth employee's letter," she announced proudly and smugly, giving him a regulation he already knew by heart. "It is, however, good that you know the standard regulation, rookie."

If he hadn't already gotten what kind of person Jeanne was, he would have asked why he hadn't been notified. He had wizened up about her on his second day, and… she was L3. She was the reason why he knew all of those by heart already, she had quizzed him. Maybe that was why Candide seemed to always be the first to arrive.

"Oh, where's the rookie? Is it her first day?" Candide asked, eager to get another friend.

"Just… in time," Jeanne supplied, looking at her watch.

A young woman in standard L1 gear and two space-ripping daggers cleared from the crowd, winded.

"Oh, hi Tanit," he said to one of his table neighbors from his two weeks of formation. Apparently, Jeanne poached her from her previous team.

"Yay! More B.S. !!!" Candide shouted, almost jumping in joy.

Paris really didn't see how he could manage that with 45 seconds until the next clause in their NDA.

"Introductions are in order! Level 3 agent of the esteemed Warp Corporation Clean-up Branch, Jeanne, responsible for Squad A-P0-C." Began the boss, holding her ripper-polearm a bit straighter while she puffed up with corporate pride.

"Oh! It's my turn!" Candide performed a relaxed military salute with his ripper-gloves. "Well, I'm L2 Wcorp agent Candide! I love doing anything!" He said with his usual enthusiasm. Paris could swear he could see his eyes twinkle.

"Well, my turn. L1 Paris," he said, completing the assignment without satisfying either Jeanne's need for corporate talk or Candide's enthusiasm. Brevity was the soul of his wit. He raised a single eyebrow towards the all too calm rookie. She had begun exactly as soon as he did, why was she so calm, especially after changing teams so soon? There was an angle he wasn't seeing.

There had to be a reason. She'd reveal herself sooner or later. People revealed themselves through what they did when exhausted.
"Welp, Hi. Tanit. Level 1, all that. I guess I'm the most junior on this team, even though I began at the same time as Paris." Again, too relaxed. He was brief but correct. She either didn't read the rule or didn't care about proper introductions.

"Caution: Dock 7-A. Train arrival imminent. 20 s. Estimated state: Delayed."

"Well! Good, an early test of our capacities as a team! Now, Tanit," she began to ask, with her eyes closed, "Can you cite the five levels of threat from the returning passengers once a Warp train arrives at its destination?"

That was an obvious one; it was always the first thing she grilled you about. Of course it was useful since knowing the estimated threat levels could obviously save your life.

"Huh… Unobstructed, Delayed, Congested, for which we need to call L4s, and then Cancelled and Derailed, but only L5s do that since it has Grade 1 fixer-level threats inside."

Not to be said that while the train station system could estimate a provisional threat level based entirely around the identity of the paying clients (if they bothered to give their real one), a growing phenomenon made it less and less indicative of the real threats the agents would find inside a docked train on its way for the grand return to the station after its eon-long voyage.

The actual threat rating was done by the agents themselves, and could easily go up or down. It only took one combat-capable person with the right tools… and a routine cleanup could become a disaster.

"Hm, good enough," Jeanne simply commented, looking at her watch. Of course, she would have wanted the whole tirade, which she could then interrupt and then give her some well-prepared speech about the usage of time. All full of well-picked and very exact corporate jargon. He knew it because it's what she did with him. Tanit had avoided the trap, all to Jeanne's disappointment.

"Caution: Dock 7-A, Opening door to the train. Please proceed."

The train appeared into view with barely a sound, just the grunt of settling metal and the displaced air. 10 wagons, 40 seats per wagon. Thankfully, they sold 50 first-class seats, so in truth, only 350 passengers to be accounted for between the four of them, about 88 each.

What it actually meant was that they needed to enter from the first-class cars, then strike hard and keep the momentum going before the passengers could think of establishing barricades or organizing some defenses. They were told that after 20 000 years without stimulation, the inhabitants of the trains had much reduced brain activity, but the threat classification system told him that it was a corporate half-truth at best.

The door to the first-class car opened. They went in running. It was simple, they had three seconds to enter the train before it could warp again. Yes, it did that. It was an essential part of the process. The shifting between the dimensions really wasn't the most energy-hungry part of the process. According to the employee handbook (second volume), it was the maintaining of the memory-field inside the train itself.

They got in, they warped back into the pocket time. Now, they had as much time as they would ever need. If there ever was a major discrepancy with the provisional threat level, they could request some aid.

The first class cars smelt like a hospital. It was chilly too. The new edition of the employee's handbook had an addendum about the possibility of complications for the first-class passengers. Just in case.

It also meant that they now informed about a lot of the machines' processes. From the chemicals, their possible interactions, their intended effects, to the circuitry of the machine. Of course, it had been part of the exam. At the time, he didn't know why.

Now he knew, and was tasked to verify that everyone was in their proper place and in one piece. It was a quick check. Five minutes in total.

Without having to be told to, he punched out a hidden panel and began typing his corporate ID and password to identify himself, allowing the train to fully communicate back with the station. It had been part of the exam too, and of their post-exam. He engaged the connection, then checked the vitals of all of his passengers. 19 out of 50 hibernation pods online. The indicator of a possible future downsizing. Not great.

At least, all of the passengers were left unmolested. Good, no need to try and apply the nightmare of PR-protecting maneuvers that was apparently the logical conclusion of his job. It was written in legalese so obscure and dense that he didn't understand it. At all.

He had been considering asking Jeanne about it, but her fluency in legalese meant she was currently drowning Tanit with corporate slop while explaining what he was currently doing and, of course, the rules. It could be explained in such simple terms… Corporate always had a way to make something simple sound like rocket science.

The technical details weren't that important, it was more about operational security, then making sure that they had everyone and that they were right in their seats when the train came back from its great voyage, making sure you were logged off and fully out of the train, then sending it back in the seconds that remained.

Thousands of people routinely got to work on time thanks to their services.

"ID complete, Jeanne-nim, the first-class passengers are all accounted for and undisturbed," he announced with the minimum amount of enthusiasm required, preparing his weapon.

"Good, then let's move in synergistic fashion. Tanit and Paris, you will assist Candide and me in liquidating the first fourteen cars, then you'll let us clear the rest of the delay. You will put every one of our dear passengers in their seats to begin the returning process. Am I clear?"

"Yes, boss!" they all shouted, activating their weapons in a flash of blue. He strung his bow with a push of a button, making it taut.

Paris prepared his breathing mask and didn't wait to put it on. It was normally in regulation to put it on after one would hear the hiss of the airlock between the first class and the economy class, but he really didn't care for that special blend of 'all the fluids present in a human and allowed to macerate for thousands of years'.

On his first train, when it was just Jeanne, Candide and him, he had been tasked with opening the airlock. The hot, damp, and fetid air had blown right into his open mouth when he was reciting procedure. He vomited and couldn't eat for the rest of the day. Had chewed him off for that, of course. But rather than take a W Corp-branded vomit bag like she had advised him to, he took out the mask a few seconds earlier than tasked for, and he breathed in the plastic-flavored air as deeply as he could.

The door hissed audibly, and Tanit grimaced, but didn't quite flinch. No need for a mask with her. Jeanne and Candide put their own masks on and waited, on guard, for the five seconds that followed for the airlock to completely equalize the pressure and open.

With a squelching of flesh, it opened. Tendons and muscles, glued with grit and time, ripped and let a body fall, revealing a massacre in the train. The remains of the passengers were caking the walls, ceiling, and floor in a very thorough and almost artistic manner. In fact, some of them were sewn together so as to represent a new inhuman shape of contorted bodies, kept together and stretched to their very limits. It looked like a tree that was silently screaming in agony. No eyes. They were either crushed or lodged somewhere else. He sincerely hoped they didn't shove their eyes in their cavities to try and see inside.

Anyway, that was sadly just the habitual result of a prolonged stay in an enclosed environment with no hint of any stimulation or need. A jungle of red.

"No assailant so far. Car one out of twenty-eight secure," declared Jeanne with pride.

"No traps?" asked Tanit.

"Nah, not their style when they do obvious arts and crafts like those! It's more of a worship-place!" Candide replied while cutting through the construct with his space-ripping gloves, displacing and parting tendons and tensioned meat like it was air through cuts in the fabric of space itself in great blue and purple gashes.

"Way's open, misses and gentlemen! Let's get to it!"

Paris took a deep, sterile-smelling breath, took a blue-tipped arrow from his quiver, and drew the bow.

Tanit ran and flashed her identifiers on a hidden part of the wall that allowed her to keep cover.

The door opened. Paris saw one of the passengers. A red shape. He loosed the space-ripping arrow.

A line of purple-tipped blue distortion followed and impaled one of his clients, passed right through, and opened a massive gash, losing its charge and getting stuck into another one of the creatures. No fusions. No weapons. Good.

Ten inside. Either they hadn't migrated, or they had claimed a territory, this. Given that an estimated 65 to 70% of all civilian passengers were used as wall decoration according to Warp Corp statistics, the second option was likelier. That still left an estimated 100 to 120 people to neutralize at each boarding.

Jeanne and Candide followed the arrow. Tanit followed them. The clients screamed in animalistic fashion. What could they do against prepared W Corp specialists?

Candide went in first and initiated with a hook from his right, separating five of them. The one he clocked got ripped in half, eliminating it. Jeanne cleaved through 3 at once with a single swing of her charged polearm. Deep light-blue, she was confident since she was overcharging her weapon. Tanit gave it her all, she ran and gave her own target a double slice in the torso, cutting right where the chest muscles should be, then activated her weapons to cut even deeper. She went through like butter, but continued and capitalized on her momentum, reversed her grip, and in a circular, almost dance-like motion, nailed another one right in the head, decapitating it.

No weapons, likely no strategy. There was something weird at play, but Paris wasn't paid to think about the future. He was paid to act in a synergistic fashion with his team. There were only three left. Paris struck, the things had mostly kept to the walls. In turn, his team had converged to the walls of the very spacious wagons. This meant that he had carte blanche when it came to loose arrows. He had two. The first one went right into a passenger's leg, it discharged, severing it cleanly and making them fall. The second got his client in the back, cutting right into the spine.

Candide was implacable. He kicked the wall he was near to give himself momentum, and did it with such force that he completely repulsed a circle of flesh a meter in diameter that had been coating it. He flew towards the falling passenger and kicked it right in the head, decapitating him.

Adjusting his cap on his head, the L2 cleanup agent smiled with all his teeth and slid on the well-worn floor to intercept the third inhabitant of the train. He charged his fist with blue energy and hit the poor thing right in the center of the back. Hard enough to hear an audible crack of glass as space itself was fractured through the power of this single punch. The passenger was left in viscous shards while the deep indigo hole in reality closed itself. Jeanne ran and decapitated the last paralyzed passenger just a second later.

The door to the next railway car opened itself alone (bad sign), and a hulking monster with a cloak of human skins for sole garment revealed itself, accompanied by a pack of other feral-looking people. Likely one of the reasons the train was delayed.

With Candide in front, Paris was at a very bad angle to shoot. The big one growled and tried to grab at the lanky man. Not a great move. Candide dropped to dodge, put one hand on the ground, and pushed. The space-ripping boots nicked one of the arms right in the bone too. The creature flinched. Paris narrowed his eyes. It had enough sense to make sense of combat and consider risks to itself.

Tanit and Jeanne were otherwise occupied destroying the chaff. He didn't bother to count the normal ones. They'd fall fast, standard passenger. The archer jumped to a seat and, standing on the top rails, found an angle. He loosened the arrow. He made it curve downward more than usual. The arrow lodged itself in the thing's guts and opened the abdominal cavity, to its roar of pain and anger. Great… gut shots were debilitating for the clients.

"Don't worry, buddy, I got this!" Candide shouted to himself, dodging a febrile strike from the big guy, then dancing back to avoid a small one that wanted to get him from behind before kicking it in four. Children were always a pain to clean up…

"A bit of help here?" asked Tanit, trying to staunch what seemed to be a near-unending tide of very energetic attackers. She and Jeanne were nearly overwhelmed.

"Coming!" He shouted. He braced himself and tried to jump out, already reaching for his standard Warp baton.

He felt something tug at his leg and fell in a flash of pain and fear, making him lose his bow. Shit! One of the passengers, an unnaturally elongated one that he had thought to have been assimilated into the wall, you know, as part of the DECOR, had grabbed him by the leg and was now running towards Car 1 with a wheezing laugh.

"Ambush type !" He screamed. His voice was lost in the melody of a massacre of fighting, feeling the fear rising. He felt the sleek floor stain his back. In a panic, he tried to reach toward his baton. He couldn't get to it. The lanky passenger screamed and threw him at the wall with a gurgle.

He got the wind knocked out of him and fell on waiting arms. The mask fell from his face, hitting him with the wet smell of the train's inside all at once. They tried to rip at his uniform with their nail-less fingers, caked in blood and old sweat and other fluids that refused to leave their owner. They tried and failed just long enough for him to reach his baton. They were thankfully too far gone to grab him by the arm.

He drew the baton and cut in a restrained arc, freeing himself before giving up on manners and tackling the one that thought he could be so easily grabbed. They were light. They always were when they were altered that way. Black anger rose in his chest, burning inside, and he struck the struggling creature in the head with the baton. Again and again and again, space ripping to the lowest level, just to feel the shock reverberate in his baton. Again, it hurt. The thing barely moved anymore. Again, until the brain exploded out of the brain case and he had trouble feeling his arm. His shoulder hurt, so did his back, but that's why he had armor. Shit, the others! He ran to the other wagon to see the fight continuing.

He sprinted, jump-kicked one of the passengers that was beginning to get curious with his bow, and used his movement to ride the unfortunate creature like a surfboard on the slimy metal floor of the wagon. Baton well in hand, he overcharged it and cracked the first head that came in view, before stomping on the head of his living vehicle.

"Be wary of the wall, they're type 3," Paris said to the two girls, weaving in and out of the client's strike before retaliating.

Tanit groaned and cut her next victim. Jeanne didn't, but she twitched before bisecting a whole group of them in a single, seemingly effortless arc of space-ripping. A true veteran. Everyone hated type 3 walls. They were shit to spot during the theory exams, and shittier to spot and deal with in real life. Because you never know if they're just decorations, traps, or predators lying in ambush.

Paris felt the raking motion of one of these things grating its finger on his body armor and retaliated by hitting it in the arm, severing it, then another hit right on the cheekbone.

"Buddy!" Candide shouted, him and his brute had moved. Paris turned around to see his bow flying towards him. Candide dodged a devastating strike from the monster. The archer grabbed it with one hand, used its space-ripping limb to brain another of the aggressive passengers in a single night-blue arc, used the momentum to turn on himself while drawing, lowering his center of gravity and pushing more charge than he ought to into that arrow. The arrow had a small capacitor inside.

What corporate didn't tell people, but he discovered himself, was that one could overcharge them. Losing arrows was expected in fights. A 100% retrieval rate wasn't expected of him (though anything less than 70% per train would be docked from his salary…). Overcharging was very bad for the arrows. You didn't want to do it unless you were very confident in your timing. He was pretty sure that he was hitting a sweet spot just before the arrow became so overcharged that it would just detonate and kill him.

Arms shaking and fear set deeply in his sick belly, he loosed the arrow. It ignited in the atmosphere of the train, severing and rending space itself on its way to the musclebound passenger. It tried to dodge, to its credit, it almost had the reaction time necessary to avoid this attack. But it was too big to do so. The arrow went deeply into the thing's reinforced muscles, and in the sound of a great shattering of glass, three-dimensional spiderwebs and great cracks exploded outwards in a flash of deepest purple. The fabric of the very cosmos was revealed to all in a spectacle of impaling light, and then it collapsed in on itself in a great clap of wind, making the giant explode.

"Thanks, buddy!" Candide said, bouncing again to avoid yet ANOTHER ambushed passenger and giving it a spinning kick of untold power that made its head spin in its neck. The veteran gave the archer two thumbs up and an encouraging smile before charging towards the fray.

Paris searched for a calm place within his mind, one that had olive trees and the scent of the sea, and part of him retreated there while continuing his job. They continued and pushed on their momentum. The plan to leave the other two at Car 14 was abandoned, since the environment was apparently too hostile to afford isolating the two least experienced workers. But finally, after two hours of grueling fighting… they secured it. The train was completely empty of all moving life. They had taken a rest at Car 13, for a 'team-building 5-minute pause' as Jeanne put it.

Paris had lazed about for 5 minutes, filthy with blood and other sticky substances that thankfully couldn't pass the waterproof layer of insulation his uniform granted him. Unfortunately, that also meant that he was sticky with sweat. His own, at least.
They never got as much resistance as the big lad in Car 2. He must have been something akin to the chief, or some form of top-order predator in this train's ecology.

With one last fall of the glaive, Jeanne had finished off the last one standing.

"Confirming: Railway status, Unobstructed, Team AP-0-C, next departure in 5min, please complete cleanup ASAP," they heard from the train's announcement system.

They could finally do their actual jobs. Given that what they did inside the train happened instantaneously, it also meant that they had all the time in the world to do their actual job. Then a five-minute pause before the next train would arrive. Their tools were actually meant to part passengers from each other in case of a fusion or if they had decided to fuse.

His was an innovative iteration on the Warp Corp philosophy. This yet unnamed phenomenon of professional combatants enjoying a ride in their economy class rather than the first-class meant that they needed to be more aggressive and have some agents with tools specialized in all ranges. Or say, had Jeanne said with her eyes closed and a tear threatening to escape them while she recited the corporate scripture with diligent fervor.

Cleanup was… frankly less disgusting than anything else. They just needed to make piles and use their handheld analyzers to verify that the meat and fluids they scooped up were genetically identical to the code that had secretly been registered on the seat. This was busy work, but thankfully, Jeanne's obsession with efficiency and "going above and beyond quotas" meant that she was also thinking for the four of them. They didn't need all of their client to reconstitute them. Thankfully, only 80% of the initial mass was necessary to have a full recovery.

One problem, however. In car 9, the passengers had apparently developed a culture of… plastering other people into the walls and furniture. To the point that a thick meat moss had been deposited, and intestines hanging like loose jungle vines.

Paris sighed when he saw what they had to separate, sort, and then bring back to their rightful place. Jeanne put a firm hand on his back.

"Time to show corporate the high standard this team was built from," she announced to her underling.

"Meaning that you chose me based on my exam results to… sort tangled bodies?" he asked, baffled and still winded some.

"A major part of our production pipeline!" she insisted with a satisfied smile, making him frown discreetly. She saw that. He knew. Few things escaped her gaze. "And think about it, if we perform well this quarter, we'll be rewarded with the highest honor the company can grant us."

"Which woul-"

"Yes! A one-of-a-kind Warp Corp-sponsored pizza party!" She said with uncontained excitement and longing, actual stars dancing in her amber eyes.

He decided to shut up and get to work, leaving his boss to rave about pipelines and leveraging. That was train one out of… he didn't want to think about it. Nor about the unavoidable team-building exercise Jeanne wanted them to perform at the end of the week.

Eventually, they got to clean up that train. It was in Paris' dubious honor to activate the patented Warp Corporation singularity, which would begin restoring their passengers into a completely pristine state, turning back the clock for 20 whole thousand years, erasing all these years and leading them exactly to the state they were in when they boarded.

They made their exit through the first-class entrance, and as soon as they did, the identifiers stopped pinging from the inside of the train in subspace, leading it to finalize its travel.

Paris pulled up one of the screens of the Dock. It had live footage of their passengers, hearty and hale, completely unaware of what had transpired. A good few of them had been children, excitedly following their parents out of the stomach of the metal worm.

He didn't want to think about that. He lowered his cap on his head and followed his team, walking toward their next work objective. It was announced to be Unobstructed for now. It could easily change.

"Ten seconds to anywhere," Paris recited their slogan, looking a bit bitterly at the Wcorp logo.

He had fought with all his might to land this job. He didn't know if he would have, had he known.

---

I tried to bridge the gap to see if that could fit in the Project Moon universe.

At first, I only wanted to examine the thoughts of a relatively normal guy needing to do this job. I ended up with a team of violent corporate idiots.
I love them all. Dunno if there's going to be more parts of it.
I just like imagining that the climax of this story would be a Derailed train. See what kind of chaos that would need.