Don't have an account yet? 
Forum Thread
Train Scandal
Forum-Index → Fanmades → Fanfictions → Train Scandal
Posted: Sat, 07/01/2017 14:25 (7 Years ago)
Henna rushes through an ocean of people with two oversized bags in her hands. She does not excuse herself. She doesn't CARE in the least what could happen to a child if they got hit a face with one of those designer bags. Pfft, why would she excuse someone she'd never see again? She swung her arms in a fashion akin to a windmill, so that her two designer bags would do the work of clearing out people.
The sight is funny, really.
It's like swimming but the water is running away from you.
She continued this until she made it to the train.
She saw a bellhop and pretended she had not done anything out the ordinary.
"Hello, sir. I was hoping that I'd get a first-class seat since I've been waiting for such a long time." The eyelash flutter. Twirling her hair around the perfect manicured finger. The works.
The bellhop smirked. "Your windmill-bags are hard to miss, ma'am."
She flinched inwardly.
"However," he said, "here is your first-class seat ticket along with your seat and service and you may enter."
She smiled disarmingly.
"Thank you."
She walked in and took the sight.
A lavishly decorated room, with ornate chandeliers and marbled tables. The seats were a vibrant rose-red and they were the softest velvet. The dining room was lovely. Attractive men and women were waiters and waitresses who genuinely loved their job. They made the conversation lilt into musical noise, and rewarded the patience of the customers with 5 star foods.
Henna was bored of it. She had seen WAY better in her 16 year life span.
Anyone who was marveling at this were simply UNCIVILIZED.
And besides, she wasn't on the train for traveling purposes.
Apparently, behind one of those sweet, bright faces of the staff, one of them had been allegedly murdering and poisoning the passengers for some reason or another.
She sighed a little. There were no leads though.
A male waitress with pale gray eyes and copper-brown hair came along.
"H-h-hello, ma'am. How may I help you?"
"Starbucks caramel latte, extra cream, and three slices of red velvet cake."
"A-a-anything el-l-se-e?"
Henna asked, "What's with the stutter?"
He mumbled, and said something among the lines of "I have a speech impairment".
Henna smiled a little.
"That's cute."
She leaned in uncomfortably close.
He turned a pretty pink, but he stayed put.
Henna leaned back and requested a fruit salad, alongside some double-fudge brownies.
The waiter, still a little shocked, hurried off to make an order, still the cute pink.
She giggled at his quick leave. She wasn't going to lie; Henna found him endearing.
She supposed she could relax for two days here and then really get down to business.
Posted: Sat, 07/01/2017 17:00 (7 Years ago)
Ah, Henna.
A women of sixteen years old. Dark red wine-coloured hair, piercing icy green eyes that evaluate you to rims of your soul. Skin tone: a warm peachy color. Her scent: vanilla cupcakes. She is ranked one of the top three private investigators internationally. Quite good at what she does, really. You can identify her with snow-white trench coat and off-white scarf.
Let's be honest. Nobody googles up 'top three private investigators' nowadays.
So nobody knows.
She didn't want to seem suspicious especially since she arrived a few moments ago. But perhaps she could maybe just a little poking around. No questions, straight up though. The decor was bland in her opinion. The stammering waiter, though? Very interesting. Those silver eyes seemed to hold more knowledge than books themselves. Then again, she thought, maybe she had the slightest affinity for him. She didn't know. But she DID care.
The same waiter returned.
"H-h-ere you g-g-go, ma'am." He held the first m of ma'am for 10 seconds before finishing the word. He then handed the food on a golden platter and bowed.
Henna supposed a little info on this place wouldn't hurt.
"So, Vladmir, anything I should know?"
He froze up.
And ran away.
The rose-haired woman blinked at the detour.
She had no words.
"Why?" she thought.
She got out a tiny notepad and wrote down this:
'Vladmir- silver-eyed, copper-tinted perm, heart of gold or faux?'
She realized that was all trash and not much help.
So she crossed that out and wrote this:
Vladmir- absconded when I asked for info, suspicious or shy?
She closed the notepad, slid it into her pocket, and enjoyed her food.
+ X +
After eating that sugary meal, she entered her room, dropped her duffel bags, and scanned it.
Distasteful.
She left quickly as she arrived.
The train was home to over thousands of different cars each with different purposes.
Well then.
Thankfully, a good two hundred or so were just cars for luggage.
But Henna knew that meant one of the eight hundred cars were home to poisoning, killing man or even woman who wanted to...do something for some..reason.
Henna shook her head. Every criminal has a motive. Without a motive, there's no place to start.
This mission was very vague.
Welp, all the more reason for Henna to check out this dump.
+ X +
After a good three hours of lollygagging through the cars, here's what she learned.
The Aquarium Car was lovely. Many rare and exotic fish were for viewing pleasure of them. Rare fish? Possible interest. And also maybe not.
Potions Car, home to elixirs of all sorts. Concoctions and brews enchant the noses and ears quite literally. There are medicines and poisons and magical components in this room.
Henna took some note of this room.
This is most certainly a peculiar train. She didn't believe in fantastical creatures and magic but I guess its true. I suppose its more difficult now. Up till now, all cases were realistic. 'I guess the magic realm gets a small welcome to humanity.' she thought.
Dining Room, been there, done that...
Luggage is luggage...but the Weaponry Room had weapons of all calibers. Oddly, enough all of these were untouched. The cobwebs and dusts were proof, if any.
Henna deduced the only way they murdered people were from either bringing their own weapons, or the kitchen.
But how would they bring their weapons in the train without being--
She facepalmed.
The bellhop didn't CHECK her bags when she came in. Why would he check anyone else for weapons?
She admitted to herself that was a bad job on the train's part.
The kitchen itself boasted a variety of knifes, ladles, spoons and forks and rare sporks and spifes with only fresh and organic food. No Betty Crocker or artificial phony business.
She silently approved.
And finally, the car she had a high suspicion for: The Staff Room.
It was filled with people.
It was silent and cold.
Well, I mean the Secret Room, which had enough secret compartments and doors to make one dizzy, but the Staff were working in a silent harmony.
She left because of the uneasy, maybe even awkward atmosphere.
As she walked out, she still had no idea of who, what or where the killer could be.
She retired to bed for a rest. She slept almost soundly until she heard a loud noise.
She tiptoed out of bed and opened the door slightly so that she could see a slit of light.
A black cloak was barely seen in her slightly blurry eyes.
She rubbed her eyes a little.
But more importantly, a purple cordial labeled 'poison' and a dagger in the hands of their black leather gloves.
'Ha,' she thought. Cliche antagonist in black. How fitting.
The figure turned around.
She heard a mellow, deep, buttery voice that woke her up completely.
'Mmm, how I love knowing while all the eyes are closed, one of them shall stay permanently shut.'
Henna identified that voice as a male, and shuddered.
'I am being watched, aren't I?' he said to no one in particular.
Henna felt like trolling and saying "Yup, nobody's watching." but she decided to stay silent. She valued her life a little.
The man laughed. Henna fell in love with the laugh automatically.
'Come out.'he cooed.
She drawn like a bee to honey and almost came out and then stopped herself.
'Alright then.'
He threw the dagger and it lodged into her door precisely.
'I will kill you.' he simply said.
Henna's heart raced.
'I will kill everyone in this train until I find it.'he said, dropping into a more honeyed octave.
Her heart felt weak. This was probably an inappropriate time to fall in love with the enemy.
Being killed sounded kinda hot right now.
She wondered if she was under a spell.
Then again, if she was under a spell and she was aware, then she'd break free, right?
Again, she didn't know, but she cared.
'I suppose I'll arrange a more suitable way to mass-kill soon.'The baritone walked up to the door, and pushed the dagger in closer. The tip was now uncomfortably close to Henna's button nose.
'Adieu.' he said and left.