the Name is Forthright. Nathaniel Forthright.

There was nothing I could have done. it was far too late. too late to save her, too late too make it all right. too late to make amends. that's why I had to leave. 

in disguise.

I checked my platinum wristwatch. the train would be here any minute. I shouldered my duffel bag and and shuffled my feet. patent-leathers pinch, especially ones two sizes too small.with a faint roar that grew louder and louder as it approached, the impressive looking engine rounded the bend, screeching to a halt with a rain of gravel. I stepped forward eagerly. suddenly, a shout rose above the clatter and murmuring of boarding passengers. it was neither a jolly conductor voice, nor a friendly acknowledgement of salutation, but an angry "stop right there, you dastardly criminal!" shout. I dashed aboard the train, hoping to lose who ever it was  in the streaming crowd. it was not too difficult. the masses that board trains are thick, and hard to find disappeared people in. with this many people, no one would notice when I got off at the next stop. I spent a long, dull journey crammed in between an old lady and a nosy woman with squinty eyes in a economy class car, with my collar turned up and my trusty silk fedora on my lap. I tried to forget about that shout. perhaps they were shouting at someone else. perhaps not. I would have to be very careful. after a million years, the train halted tiredly, and everybody stood up at once, awkwardly fetching luggage from the overhead rack. I stepped out side, and gratefully breathed in the fresh, bright Cordarian evening air. then, someone grabbed my collar. more like an iron-fisted demon in human shape. how had they known!?  "ha! Forthright!you think you could escape, eh?" I shrugged, banging my shoulders against the demon's meaty fist. "not entirely. no." how much power would I need? I swept my eyes across the scene before me. busy, bustling, loud. people with black briefcases and tartan suitcases and appalling fashion cases. crowds are cover. the human shaped demon was saying something about a 'pleased boss' and a 'reward'. "well then," he concluded at length, bringing his mouth close to my ear. I smelled caulliflower. "you better come along quietly or I-" I twisted out of my trench coat and kicked the man powerfully in the stomach. he grunted in pain, momentarily winded. he stretched forth a hand, groping for my neck. I was gone.

The End

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