The Collectors

Train exploded. Yeah. It exploded.

The Apostle and Timberwolf boarded the same train to Paris as I was going on. It was the only train departing from that station for hours so it was to be expected. It started as uneventfully as the first one, but became much more 'eventful' mainly by the explosion of the train. The Timberwolf sitting next to the Apostle got up with his bag and left the carriage, a few moments later a large ball of fire was consuming the front of the train.

The entire thing keeled over, different carriages colliding with each other as the forward force of the train push them into one another. Fire flying everywhere. How I survived, I couldn't tell you, maybe it was my semi-existence, maybe I'm just lucky. But I managed to push my way from the rubble, fires licking at my feet. And of course the Apostle had survived as well. Except now he had his hood up and his gas mask on, his grey long-coat billowing enough to reveal a yellow Twin-Triangles emblazoned on his hoodie. An assault rifle cradled in his arms.

A piece of rubble near him moved, pushing its way off a bloodied body, who cried out for help. The Apostle turned the rifle towards them, releasing a short burst of bullets and cutting the screams short. He was making sure there was no survivors. He was probably looking for me. Scribe Theta said that the Sine Corda -and by extension myself- were hated by followers of THE FALLEN. He must have been sent to kill me, as only Apostles can see me. Make sure I was no longer a problem.

As other survivors sprinted for the safety of the treeline they too were shredded my hails of bullets. I couldn't run, but I couldn't stay here either, he was shooting corpses as he slowly walked the length of the train wreck, there would be no survivors. I crawled silently under the cover of the twisted metal, shattered glass cutting my underside. I made my way as far as I could and waited, waited for the sound of bullets that would follow as the Apostle turned his attention to someone else.

I scrambled to my feet and keeping as low and fast as I could headed for the forest, bullets whizzing around me the entire way, one connected with me and I slammed to the ground. Several more gunshots sounded, but they weren't the bursts of the assault rifle, no they were the shots of a smaller gun. Looking back from the now bloodied grass I saw the Apostle fleeing from view as a young, red-haired woman with a handgun sent bullets after him.

Satisfied that the Apostle was gone the woman ran towards me and picked me up from the ground.
"Come on." she had said as we ran from the train wreck through the forests, myself limping the whole way, the bullet hadn't struck my leg, but the wound in my back was enough to make any actions painful. Eventually coming to a road, she pulled out a radio and called for a car which arrived mere moments later, driven by a blonde man in his thirties. We piled ourselves inside and she introduced herself as Collector Epsilon of the Archive and he as Collector Upsilon, before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

I awoke later on a rough cot in a small warehouse in a small French town, where Upsilon was treating my wound. He explained it as a safe house for the Archive, as their line of work may quickly become dangerous with the increase in Timberwolf activity recently. I asked how he knew I would be there, and how the Apostle knew the same.

"Anonymous tips came in for the Archive about a sabotage of your train," chimed in Epsilon as she sat nearby, "I don't know about the Timberwolves."

Upsilon finished sowing up my back, and replaced the bandages on my arm, the wounds from THE RIPPER never did heal, but there isn't an infection. After that they left me here to get some rest. It still really hurts. Now I've got an Apostle and how many Timberwolves after me, at least now I've got a couple of Archivists helping.

-Shady