Drive the train, get threatened by robbers and shoot. Repeat.

I’m Runce Herring–did you expect anything less?

It’s the year 6,208 WY, and nothing has changed. You can be a train conductor for one hundred years, and still deal with the same sorts of people.

As I sneak into the dining car of my train, I slip behind the counter. The room is laid out with small dining booths, a tipped over drink cart and windows that reveal the beautiful western mountain ranges of Hophreda’an. Passengers are huddled in the corners of the room, trembling as something struts about with some disgusting level of confidence. I spy a hiding passenger–a young elven woman–as she sees me. I tip my cap to her and draw something from my side–a weapon.

I make my move to see what kind of figure is gracing my train with their spittle and threats today. Are they desperate, or is this how they get their high? It’s always interesting to find out. Before me lies a classic scene–two bandits, faces covered and dressed in black cloaks. They both hold short blades and to one, a crossbow. The one with the crossbow shouts threats at the passengers as the second fellow is holding my barmaid hostage.

‘Stay where you are!’ Bandit One shouts. He aims his crossbow at my face, a tremble in his fingertips.

I quietly nod, but am mostly focused on my barmaid. He’s a young dwarf with a lot of makeup on. And there, he looks to me with that sinister and sweet smile. Poor Bandit Two.

‘Get off my train,’ I say. I stand, pointing my weapon at bandit one. It’s an empty threat, for now. I have to get him to falter. Just let down your guard, idiot.

‘Get back on your knees!’ Bandit One shrieks, desperately. He turns his crossbow on one of the passengers. Blood. A teenage human boy is shot.

‘I don’t repeat my requests.’ I pull the trigger on my weapon. It’s the finest piece of weaponry I’ve ever had my hands on. A golden revolver with beautiful floral patterns reaching all the way to the barrel, like long fingers holding it. As the internal functions of it wind, I release a faint golden energy from within myself. This is the best feeling. A warm pulse resounds from my fingers and joins the launching bullet within. The barrel itself seems to duplicate, disconnecting from the weapon and spiralling in place. Not one, but two bullets fire. They are followed by a strange golden light, shaped like cogs. Nobody can see this but the trained of eye–that’s the most exciting part. And I see the fear in Bandit One’s eyes–he can see it just in time for the bullets to split the skin. They burrow into him as a golden light also pulses from them. He falls into a heap at Bandit Two’s feet. By the by, Bandit Two is now in a headlock as my barmaid strangles him into unconsciousness.

‘Nicely handled, Ginger,’ I say. I reach down to feel the pulse of Bandit One–he’s alive. ‘We need to hire a security guard to keep watch on this room. Stuff always happens here.’

‘Stay still!’ a new voice cries. Armed with two daggers, a third bandit leaps from behind the counter, threatening me with clenched teeth and fear in his eyes. How could I forget? There’s always another. As he winds an arm back to throw one of his blades, a flash of golden hair and several quick strikes have him on the floor spitting up gruel.

‘Wow.’ I’m in utter bewilderment.

That elven woman from earlier presses a heel to the back of the man’s head. She gestures to me with a smile, saying, ‘security, you say. Where can I submit my resume?’