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────── #six word count: 3.1k ❝ tales of monsters ❞ POV:CHASSIS
warning: slightly detailed gore.
"Good morning, team!" Journey exclaimed as she clanked two pots together. "We got three hours until departure. You know what happens if you're late, I'm not responsible for you once you get snatched!" Ginnee screeched as she leaped out of her bunk, which was unfortunate given the fact that she slept above Chassis. The threat was also enough to send everyone in the house scrambling to get their things together.
Before Panem, the natives that inhabited the land now known as District Six told tales of an evil entity that possessed humans to have a thirst for blood. Uttering its name was a taboo, so they were left with only calling it by its first letter, the W. The legend evolved over time, and the exporters and importers believed that the woods near the train stations was where the W lurked, so they always scurried when it came to loading and unloading cargo in hopes of avoiding an encounter. It was also why people in the district never went out alone after sundown.
The exporters were out the door an hour and a half before departure; majority may be on morphling, but boy were they punctual. The looming threat of the W left them scared out of their wits, and with the rest of their cargo packed away, the crew decided to linger at the station, pretending to do work as Peacekeepers kept watch. Some hid behind large boxes, scolding each other in hushed voices while playing poker. Others moved from cabin to cabin to 'check' the inventory as a cover-up to gossip about Alect's cheating scandal that, apparently, hadn't died down yet.
Out of the corner of her eye, Chassis saw a familiar, beige newsboy hat peek from behind the station. She ignored it, going back to 'listing inventory' with Trek, who was 'reading' through the parchment on a clipboard. If the Peacekeepers knew any better, they'd know that Trek couldn't read, the list was just a drawing of Big Guns swinging the station manager around by his legs (courtesy of an exporter named Travess), and that Chassis was actually just telling him about Wilbur's four failed marriages.
"Psst! Chass!"
That was something she couldn't ignore. Chassis let her gaze linger at the wires fence near the station. Lo and behold, Reaper was leaning his back against the wall, hands in his front pockets while scanning his surroundings for nearby Peacekeepers. When Chassis stopped in her tracks, Trek copied her motions, a pout on his lips as he looked up at her.
