Suppose you’d done something wrong. Okay, I get it; you’re human. Of course you’d done something wrong. But imagine if you were one of those people that did something really wrong and got away with it. Could you sleep at night? Could you get up and eat breakfast and go to work and come home with that guilt resting on your back?
Of course you could.
See, that’s the thing with the past. You can’t just stroll into the future and leave it behind you and, sooner or later, it’ll catch up with you, just as if you pulled the pin on a live grenade and put it in your pocket.
Boom. Almost concurrently across the world, a handful of letters were sent, each unique but bearing the same inscription in mismatched letters clipped from newspapers:
I know your dirty little secret. Will be in touch.
- Mr. Jig
Mr. Jig always keeps his promises and, sure enough, he was in touch. Apparently, and, naturally, to the great surprise of all concerned, he had demands.
Kaz frowned at his iWatch, the glowing numerals on the screen being replaced with yet another notification from Reuters, this one indicating that the Pope had declared "all human life should be held sacred" in response to some sort of ISIS ploy in the middle east involving a massacre of hundreds. He had been keeping tabs on the story most of the journey from London, but he hadn't expected the Pope to speak on the matter. Kaz read the headline again, this time aloud to himself:
"All human life should be held sacred."
He chuckled at the sentimentality, which garnered a very strange look from one of few passengers that occupied the decrepit train. Kaz felt eyes burning into his skull and looked sideways to find an older woman leering at him with curiosity. After all, it probably wasn't a normal occurrence to find a sharply dressed Japanese man intently studying his technological devices on such a desolate route. He had done as much research as he could into the route to Pryrush, but there wasn't much he could dig up other than it was a rather cheap route that didn't feature any kind of first class car. He had looked into flying, but attempting to find Pryrush on a map was an excruciating process, one that involved consistently zooming in on an electronic map until a small pinprick registered on-screen. Sure, the transportation method AND the village itself seemed backwards, but the CFO of Ujohiri Financial Holding inc had to...stoop(for lack of a better term in his mind) to the level of common individuals just this one time in order to resolve a matter that was all too sensitive.
Any hint of civilization seemed to disappear after about an hour into the trip, but he had at least somewhat of a cellular signal up until ten minutes ago, which he cursed about inwardly. Without any line of communication, he would have to improvise somehow. He straightened up in his seat, looking down at his gold cufflinks before realizing that he had brought it with him in order to make more sense of it on the trip. On the seat next to him lay a smallish suitcase that contained the usual accouterments of travel, but in the front pocket was an envelope that he withdrew now, opening it to reveal a rather tacky note, newspaper letters making up the message:
"Why don't you drop on by? We can talk." -Mr.Jig
This was the latest letter, which upon putting together with the others, formed the motivation for Kaz to follow the instructions laid out for his journey to Pryrush. He rapped his fingers on his leg, tapping one foot on the floor of the car. He would figure this out...somehow.
_____
Kaz had gotten the attention of the conductor by moving to the front of the train and claiming that he needed to get off at Pryrush, not trusting the judgment of a backwoods Englishman to get him to his specific destination. The conductor looked at him rather oddly, but shrugged and told him that they would be there in just a few minutes. On his way back, he noticed that some of the cars had passengers that seemed...distinct. He couldn't put his finger on it, but some of these passengers didn't belong, he just knew it. Were they also headed to Pryrush? No, probably not. Could they?
The train stopped, allowing Kaz to deboard onto the free standing concrete platform. He scanned his surroundings, looking for any sign of his mysterious communicator.
Ugh, train? It's bad enough that he's being forced to head off to the very sticks, but now he demands that he comes by train? Unbelievable! The man in a suit, sitting in the chair, with a suitcase in his lap, let out a sigh. In some way, it's understandable. Some backwater town like this one wouldn't have an airport. He inhaled, then exhaled. Just enjoy the ride, you'll be coming face to face with Jig and clear this up later. the man in a suit reassured himself as he sunk down into his chair. He was going to confirm that he knows something before the man in a suit does anything. This could all be one big trick - and he was never one for tricks. the man in a suit coughed, and checked his phone - shit, still no signal. Not good. Just to be safe, the man in a suit looked around the train car. Pretty empty. Not a soul is here... Wait. There's a young man in here. the man in a suit didn't notice the sleeping young adult in the row of seats right across from him. Which implies that the man in a suit wasn't paying attention, or he snuck in here while the man in a suit was fiddling with his phone. This guy wasn't even awake, he was just sleeping.
Something was catching his attention, like... he seems somewhat familiar, or there was a match in the man in a suit's head. He eyeballed the man a little longer, squinting. He decided to check his iPhone - Christ! the man in a suit forgot the phones don't have receptions! the man in a suit rolled his eyes up into his head. Looks like the mystery of this stranger will go largely unsolved. Probably just some guy heading home for vacation. Speaking of his iPhone, it's time to get off! The man in a suit got up, with his brief case in his hand, casually sliding that cellphone into his pocket. For a moment, he pulled the letter out of his pocket. "Why don't you drop on by? We can talk." Written in letters cut out from news papers. Like Mr. Jig is some sort of criminal mastermind. Oh, we'll be talking alright. He walked through the exit door of the train car, and stepped into the next one, and then the next one... continuing the process until he was to the front of the train. Along the way, he spotted some rather... "interesting" people. The sharp dressed man wondered what business they had here. Some of them didn't look like the types that'd show up in this town... Then again, they could just be visiting family. Who knows. Maybe this city was their start, and they're just here for nostalgia sake. The man smirked. He made it to the very front of the train, and stepped through the doors - immediately spotting the conductor. He walked up to the conductor, and raised a finger.
"I'm getting off at Pryrush."
The conductor nodded, and the dapper man went to the previous cab, and sat down. Patiently waiting for the train to come to a stop. It was around ten or so minutes later that it did come to that stop. He yawned, and stood straight up. With the briefcase in hand - I'll never let go of this thing - he walked off the train, and onto the hard, cold, concrete floor. This didn't feel comfortable underneath his dress shoes, but whatever. Now that he's off the train, now what? Will he just stand here with a thumb up his ass until Mr. Jig comes to meet him?
"Come on. Show yourself."
A man in a suit, like himself, said. Which immediately made Jake turn his head towards him, and stare for a moment. He had a nice suit, and looked Asian. He felt like there was a connection between the two men. He didn't know. What he does know is that the newcomer in a suit obviously has as much reason to be here as he did. Well, might as well play along. "What? Here to meet someone?" He said, with a casual smirk on his face.
Wo de ming zi jiao Chen, wo zai ze li...yao gen yi ge ren lai jiang hua.
"H - Hi, my name is Chen. I came to speak with a man."
He sighed. Coming all the way from Beijing was a tedious task, and now he sat in a train car, heading for his final destination of Pryrush, some backcountry town in the middle of Europe. His bag sat on his lap as he busied himself with reading a book. An English publication of course, he was no stranger to the language, but here in this foreign land he had to appear like a harmless tourist. Especially since was here to meet...a very unpleasant someone.
The note made him shudder. It had been the latest in a series of letters that had described, in excrutiating detail, his invitation to a quiet country house for a tete a tete with a Mister Jig. They had much in common, it seemed, and he was particularly interested in Chen's craft. He had no choice but to attend and see what this crafty fellow wanted.
The train rolled to a stop, the PA announcing the current location as Pryrush. Without a word he snapped his book shut, stowed it in his bag and exited the car, as did several other people. Two men immediately caught his eye: both distinctly not European or Caucasian. Foreign. One of them said something about looking for someone and the other replied in kind. Chen kept himself out of it, instead looking around for a bench or something that he could sit down at. The station was one of those old, rural ones, but there were benches at least. He sat down on one and nervously rubbed the strap of his bag.
Trains were nice, well could be, this train was not nice. It was old and certainly must be falling apart bolt by bolt. She was certain of it. It didn't help that they allowed just anyone on the train, these days anyway. Harrumph, born too late.
The phone was already useless, no surprise there. If this whole thing made her late for the meeting - No she wouldn't be late. Will would distract them anyway.
The crumpled letter sat between her leg and bag, an oversized thing stuffed with items that were necessary for any traveling woman. She pulled the letter up and smoothed it, a letter peeling slightly. Undignified. She shoved the letter into her bag alongside her useless and off cell phone.
Pryrush, such Welsh name. She had, of course, told the conductor to stop there. He had given her a funny look, which she had returned before marching off to her seat. One close to the front of the train, and in the course of sitting there a few others had all asked for the train to stop off in Pryrush, which was just silly. First off she had already asked, because it had been recommended to her to do so. Secondly it was ridiculous in the first place to have to tell a train conductor when to stop. He should stop automatically. Harrumph, no decency.
Finally the train slowed to a stop. She disembarked, feeling the shaking of the train still rattling her bones. Ugh the weather. She did not need it to rain on top of everything else. Well she had an umbrella at least. Who went to Europe without one?
The older woman glanced down the train platform and frowned. She had expected a few others. That had been clear from the amount of people who had asked for a stop here, but honestly. She frowned, adjusted her hat and marched into the train station building. That was impressive, there was a building. She was not going to sit outside in the cold and damp waiting for some ... stranger. No she'd sit inside on what was sure to be a stiff backed bench. All the while she'd ignore the others. None of them could possibly be him .
The station building was... "quaint". The place looked like anything slightly modern had passed over it, only electrical wiring gave indication that the building hadn't been left in the 1800's, or worse. Inside, it was as bad as she had expected. The lights were dim, and gave off that annoying white noise buzz. Her heels clicked on the terracotta tiles, echoing around the empty station. The absolutely empty station.
Rude.
There should be someone here, to pick her up. There should be something to tell her where to go. She marched over to the ticket counter and rang the bell. No response. She rang it again. No response.
im glad i brought an umbrella that sky is looking rather dreary
Gentle hands tightened aggressive around the handle of a maroon umbrella, and green eyes stared blankly out at the moving scenery surrounding the train. Gray skies filled her vision, endless swirling clouds that were definitely not unusual for the UK, though to the Lady in Red it was basically alien. Home sickness was quick to fill her chest, the blazing Spanish sun would definitely out beat a creaking, musty train ride. In fact, absolutely anything else would be better than the current anxiety she was experiencing. Her hands loosened as her eyes dropped to stare at the scuffed floor beneath her feet, and the Lady in Red felt her throat close in fear as she remembered the letter she had received a mere day or two before.
Blackmail.
It wasn't her first time experiencing something like blackmail, and it wasn't her first time traveling to try and settle a disagreeing situation like this, but this particular blackmail was worrying. No one should know about this part of her life. No one should have such... Damning information. Her eyes rose to connect with her bag, a rather boring black purse that seem nearly empty, but it held everything she had to offer to try and fix this error. And she was going to do everything in her power to stop this Mr. Jig from ruining her life.
The Lady in Red straightened her back, smoothing the creases in her dress as she let her eyes connect with the other passengers in the train. It was nearly empty, very quiet, and everyone seemed somewhat... Off. No use try pry, though. The English were never very talkative anyway, she'd probably be told to 'fuck off and mind your own business'.
God, she wanted to go home.
By the time they had finally pulled up to the station her phone was completely useless. No service, and due to her forgetfulness, almost no power. She slipped the smartphone back into her purse as she sashayed off the train-car and into the white-lit station. Two or three people exited the train with her, and that was it. NO one else dared to follow, in fact, some gave them a few wary glances. Odd. Her attention shifted from the glances to the station in a matter of moments, though. It was old, just like the inside of the train had been, and buzzed with an uncomfortable silence that could drive anyone mad. The Lady in Red shifted to and fro, stepping away from the general crowd that had gathered within the walls, and watched as an older woman rang the bell at the ticket counter countless times. There was no one here besides the other passengers on the train.
No wonder that man back at the first station had given her such an odd look when she told him her location. Pryrush was bare and lonely, no one wished to visit and no one cared to stay. Perhaps these few people around her were all on the same boat as she, and they were simply following directions.
The directions, of course, were to sit and wait for further instructions.
might as well get to waiting then
The Lady in Red crossed the platform quickly, heels clicking on the old concrete, and she took a seat on one of the many benches. Her umbrella rested on her lap, while her purse slide to the floor without a sound, and she tilted her eyes to the ceiling and stared into space, awaiting a sign from who knows who to go do who knows what.
He tapped the screen. Loading page. Nope, no connection. He tried the same thing again. If the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over in anticipation of a different result, he would have been locked up for his own safety, with the key long since thrown away; almost from the moment the train had crossed the border into Wales, his signal had fallen off a cliff, and so he had no choice but to endlessly tap the ‘refresh’ button when the conductor had informed him that, no, their train did not offer a premium wifi service.
It was Wednesday. There were things to be done on Wednesdays; emails to send, things to book. In exasperation, he drummed his fingers on the apparently useless perspex screen of his tablet with one hand, and snatched the optimistic bluetooth headset from his ear with a dextrous pincer-like clasp of his fingers, which he neatly stowed in his bag.
Of all the places in the world, why did it have to be Wales? Apparently, his mysterious correspondent didn’t care for his work schedule.
At the thought of this Mr. Jig, whoever he was, Jamie shuffled in his seat slightly. He wished he’d brought the letters with him, just to double-check he’d got the date, time and location right, except he had put the damn things in the shredder the moment he’d received them. Of course, he’d typed up a transcript of each on his tablet, which he had saved online – and was now of no use to him whatsoever. With nothing else to do, he half-looked at his own reflected image in the carriage window and half at the increasingly gloomy-looking weather outside. The greatest irony of all, that, in Wales of all places, it was impossible to get access to The Cloud.
They drew into Pryrush. He’d already heard a couple of people requesting the stop, and so hadn’t bothered to do so himself. Perhaps he was still pretending to himself that it was any ordinary day, and he was just packing up at the office. With a sigh and a stretch, Jamie stood up and began collecting his things together. All in all, it was an efficient, three-point movement, in which he closed his tablet case, stowed it in his messenger bag, and twirled the strap over his shoulder before alighting.
There were a few others. Actually, there were a few others. He frowned gently as he cautiously joined them on the platform. His fellow travellers looked as out-of-place as Jamie presumed he did himself, and all appeared to be travelling alone – there were eight of them in total. He’d heard accents on the train and, though he was no good with accents, he would have sworn that most of them were even less local than his own. It certainly was a motley crew that fate had drawn to Pryrush that night. Eyebrows raised, he headed into the waiting room, as instructed.
It was cute, he guessed, in a rural vintage kind of way, but he wrinkled his nose and tried to push away the instinctive thoughts of giving the place a good going-over with a hoover. The dim, antiquated lighting, which came in the form of cheap-looking candelabras on the walls with useless bulbs, did nothing to disguise the dust, and gently reflected off the nearby cobwebs. Even the photographs, which appeared to be of local scenery, were worse for wear, with their frames violently askew, and in the case of one which could just about be made out as a landscape of some country crossroads, violently cracked. The atmosphere was just ruined by a regular ding emanating from the counter, where one of the arrivals’ wrinkled hands was exploring all of the possibilities of the service bell.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Jumpy enough without the old woman calling for attendance when it was obvious nobody was there, Jamie casually turned around to find some peace and quiet back on the platform, only to find that the wind had audibly picked up, and it had begun to make good on the rain it had been promising all day. Typical. Rolling his eyes, he took a seat in the waiting room. Hopefully it would all be over soon.
Kaz grunted at the intrusion, looking over to find a rather sharply dressed man with what he perceived to be an almost...cocky air to him. No, not cocky. He knew what cocky looked like. He was...confident? Overly so? He couldn't exactly nail it, but there was a quality that the man exuded which was rubbing him the wrong way. Then again, most people tended to rub him the wrong way simply because they didn't seem important enough to bother with. However, it wasn't an accident that this stranger was on the same platform. Who was he? Was it Jig? No, it couldn't be. Could it?
"Possibly." His response to the stranger's questioning was accompanied with a quick survey of the area. There was a rickety shelter close by, which would serve as somewhat of a buffer between the incoming weather(England! He joked that the rain was so frequent because the gods couldn't stop crying over how awful the English were as a people...that wasn't a popular joke among most. He told it anyway.) and the travelers that were surprisingly present. One other person on the platform might have been a coincidence, but for there to be a handful? This was tactful. Jig might have asked these interlopers to come and serve as camouflage. Jig could have been any one of them, yet he could be watching somewhere, plotting his next move as he laughed gleefully at the confusion.
He muttered a string of curses in his native tongue before spotting a rather pretty woman dressed head to leg in red, her black shoes serving as a fantastic compliment to her attire. She seemed innocent enough, which made Kaz suspect her all the more. He decided to poke the bear, see what would happen if he interacted with someone.
It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous.
Kaz approached her with a disarming(or at least he thought it was) smile, miniature suitcase in tow as he asked her: "Now what would bring a beautiful woman such as yourself to a..." He paused, seeking the right word. "Backward location." Smooth as usual.
