REVENGE - a mystery applyfic

ONE

She'd come here to relax, not to be annoyed. Guinevere sighed quietly and pulled a leatherbound journal from her pocket, followed by a pen. At least she could write out her frustration. It was the only true expression she allowed herself.

Guinevere had spent her life building an image, a way of being. Nothing would be allowed to shake that, not even now.

—

ALMERA Bakir couldn't stand it when people questioned her passport. Yes, she really was born in England. No, she wasn't faking any of her details (not on her passport, anyway). Yes, this trip was paid for, and yes all her documents were in order.

But of course, officials just had to double and triple check every time, so she was almost late boarding the train. She did just make it, however, handing over her ticket to the conductor with moments to spare. She was given a smile and directed to a young woman dressed as a porter, thin black hair swept up into a simple bun. She smiled at Almera, the picture of hospitality and discretion, and offered to take her bags. Her accent was American, to Almera's surprise—she'd honestly expected British from someone living on the continent—but Almera simply smiled in return.

Almera kept hold of her leather case—she wouldn't give up her writing supplies to another, even for a few minutes. No one here knew she was a writer, after all, and she intended to keep it that way. Perhaps she was a bit paranoid, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her suitcase, though, she passed to the porter with a "thank you".

The woman led Almera through the lounge and dining cars, both sparsely occupied, and into the first-class sleeper car. Almera had paid good money for her berth, though it was the least well-appointed in the car. She couldn't risk any untoward questions, after all. To that end, Almera was not surprised when the porter tapped on the door of the very first compartment they approached, waiting until it slid open from the inside to show Almera within.

The door had been opened by a Black woman dressed simply but well. Her hair was smooth and pinned out of her face, and her accent, when she opened her mouth to greet Almera, was Southern American. "You must be my roommate," she said. "I'm Judith King."

Almera held out her hand for the other woman to shake. "Almera Bakir," she said, ensuring her voice was warm and welcoming. "Pleased to meet you."

—

ROBERT Hughes Jr. lay back in the bed of his little berth, crossing his legs and propping his hands behind his head. He grinned. So far, he couldn't complain about anything. The train was wonderful, and he was... looking forward to the journey. He had the distinct feeling that he would be pleased upon arrival in Athens. How could he not?

He had seen a familiar face or two aboard—Rhydderch, for one, though Bobby kept himself well out of the man's line of sight. His opinions on Rhydderch were strong, and it would be quite the understatement to say that they were mere dislike.

But Bobby pushed that out of his mind. It didn't matter now. What mattered now was preparing for the journey—and practicing his sleight of hand. It might come in handy.

—

MIA Song resisted the urge to fidget. She wasn't prone to the action, but a last-minute passenger—especially one of such renown and fame as this—was cause to be nervous in her experience on the rail line.

She had no clue how the man—Montgomery Gomez, according to the papers checked and double-checked by officials—had managed to get the ticket. The original passenger canceled, leaving berth nine empty. Until hearing of Mr. Gomez's arrival, it was planned to give the berth to one of the two ladies sharing number ten, but with an additional passenger, space must be made.

Gomez probably knew someone in the railroad company. That seemed to be the most likely reason, anyway. Mia rolled her eyes a little at the thought. Men. They could get whatever they wanted and then some.

She smoothed her expression, though, at the sight of a slightly harried-looking man approaching the train, American cowboy hat crooked on his head and bags in hand. As he boarded, he looked up at Mia with a rakish grin, and tipped his hat with one hand. "Hi," he said. "Sorry for the last-minute thing. I didn't expect to be getting on a train today."

Mia nodded impassively. "It is not a problem, Mr. Gomez," she said. She kept her eyes down, not looking at him head-on. "Might I take your bags? And if you will follow me, your berth is just this way..."

All too easily, Gomez passed the bag off to Mia—luckily it wasn't very heavy—and followed as she led him to the first-class cabins. Mia restrained a sigh. This journey might be quite eventful.

—

FREDERIK van 't Hoff settled into his seat at the front of the first-class cabin, scanning the line of closed doors stretched out before him. There was a lurch and a blow on the whistle as the train pulled away from the station, and he heaved a breath.

Another journey, another week and a half of hoping—no, praying—that none of these first-class idiots managed to get themselves too hurt. Usually, he wasn't that lucky. But he could hope.

By God, could he hope.

—

2149 words.

After many months, the first chapter is here! It was a doozy to write, though I'm decently happy with how it turned out. Do let me know if I've written your character wrong, and I hope you all enjoyed!
Mags💛