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1. Fanbulb - La Bestia

FAN POV
I sat on the edge of the partition between the carriages, staring out into the wet night. I was less than an hour out of Arriaga, but the journey had felt like a whole eternity without Test Tube. A woman just behind me had cried out several times at the beginning of the journey, as apparently she'd lost her friend, but I didn't care. It's every man for himself. She should've known that by now.
Most people boarding La Bestia, otherwise aptly known as El Tren de la Muerte, had an adopted family they'd met along the way, but not me: I'd only had Test Tube. Our real families were shot right in front of our eyes months ago, so we had to stick together in order to survive. But now, I suppose it was only me.
I missed her. I still miss her. I wonder where she is now. I wonder... I wonder if she is, now.
The way I kept my feelings away for that journey was to beat them back into the shadows, try not to feel, try not to express anything negative. Just... float. Between everything, in the middle, just a draining nothingness. It was my only option, unless I wanted to break down into tears like the woman across from me.
It was around 2am when I jolted upwards, finding out that I had fallen asleep against the cold metal of the freight container to my right, with my legs still dangling over the side. Everybody on the roof of the containers was buzzing around like bees in a broken nest, as blue lights circled the train. Police.
The train began to screech to a halt, throwing immigrants forwards due to the sudden brake. I could now see the black leopards of policemen loping forwards towards the train, and suddenly I was jumping over the side, knees braced for the impact against the ground, and rolling over as I collapsed painfully against the floor, pulling a blanket of dust and stones up over my body. I lay stunned for several seconds, before I felt a hand grab the collar of my red top and pull me hard enough to make the fabric make a tearing snap of protest. I yowled like a wildcat but I was made helpless by the collar of the shirt choking me into submission. I was dragged over on my back behind a wooden fence, where I was kicked up into the splintered boards by a tough boot.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Not even I would leap off the side of a train, you fucking dumbo!"
Everything swam. My back stung and bruised from where I'd been pulled over the gravel, I looked woozily upwards to see the half-lit profile of a straw-haired girl, looking down at me with puffy eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
The girl took the front of my shirt this time, pulling me to my feet.
"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you're lucky to still be in Mexico."

LIGHTBULB POV
I was one of the first to notice the police vans zooming over the horizon, and hear their wailing whines. We were just passing through a small, run-down town when we saw the fleet approaching, engines roaring, lights flashing.
"¡POLICÍA!" I found myself hollering, springing to my feet and calling as loudly as I could. Instantly, the train became alive with action, with men, women, children, squabbling for space, screaming to get off. I tensed several times as a few unlucky young men tumbled from the vehicle, landing hard on the dry earth. I only saw one of them get up again.
My cry was repeated all down the train, reaching the driver, who pressed the brake pedal with all his might. There was a universal scream of pure human fear as people rolled forwards like a wave, crashing into each other with audible thuds. A yelling woman was thrown straight off the top of the final carriage, and dumped on her head on the partition. The head opened and stuff came out. Red. I couldn't even function in my horror. The wails of a young child carried from up on top of the container, but luckily the root of my brain jabbed me into action as a boy, who must've been the woman's son, hurled himself off after his mother. I leapt forwards to at least cushion his fall with my outstretched arms, even if I couldn't catch him. The child dropped like a stone, but luckily my limbs acted to break his fall. He was much luckier than his poor mother.
The child sprawled on the floor for a second or two, but a swift grab and he was clutched to my chest. Swinging down the ladder on the opposite side, I pounded across the packed earth through the darkness, when I stumbled over someone lying spreadeagled in the dirt. A headlight swept across his face, and I could instantly see he was barely conscious. In a moment of madness, I used my spare hand to wrench the dark-haired lad over the ground, across a track parallel to the original one and into the brush behind a wooden partition. I threw his body more forcefully than I intended to up against the fence, causing him to groan in pain, swaying his head around woozily.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Not even I would leap off the side of a train, you fucking dumbo!" I shout mutedly at him as he looks up at my scowling face.
"Who the hell are you?"
His voice is cracked, his throat sore from some form of emotion. My heart ached when the essence of Painty crept back into my head, but I beat it back. This was a dire situation. No time for regrets. I pull him forcefully to his feet, and leave him standing shakily.
"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you're lucky to still be in Mexico."
"Oh no... the policía came?"
I nod gravely, suddenly startled by a crash and a wail over by the train. People on the roof were lit from behind by torchlight and the moon, which showed the shadow-puppet show of desperation and capture.
"We have to leave. Now."
I hold the child more tightly, and flee. The boy seems to be following a short distance behind as we make tracks into the long dry grass. I can hear barks of command and treads nearby, but nobody seems to have seen us as yet.
"Who are you?" the boy repeats, as I hear the sound on him stumbling on a rock.
"Lightbulb. And this is... Baxter." I decided.
"I'm Fan."
The conversation halted as we continued running faster towards safety. The confines of the small town left far behind, we pelted faster down a smooth incline into a flatter plain. A run-down shell of what used to be a farmhouse loomed out in the low moonlight, a welcome sight to our aching limbs.
"You ok with staying here for the night?" I asked behind me, where Fan was limping sadly. He looked on at the ruin with delight, probably excited at the prospect of a safe night's sleep.
"Yeah, yeah it's great!"
We both picked our way around the rubble, finding inside a reasonably well preserved room, equipped with a faded and dusty but bone-dry bed.
"This is a lot better than I've had for a long time, to be honest." Fan admitted, dragging his heaving and exhausted body onto the bare mattress. I joined him, setting Baxter on my knee as I tested the bed: it was a little bit lumpy and the springs had clearly rusted at one point, but Fan was right. It was better than anything we'd had for a while.