76°00'08.2"S 53°43'31.2"E - Plaza de Armas, Nuevo Trujillo,

  Spanish Antarctic Colonies

  26.05.2024 18:45, UTC+03:00

  “It is okay. You have nothing to fear from me,” I said to the short man in front of me. His mouth twitched a bit as he processed my soothing.

  “Of course,” he mumbled, swinging his arms relaxed, letting me pass through. He was nothing but a cadet policeman. Showing him my T-Badge would create more complications than simply soothing him. I just needed to get into the station before anyone else arrived.

  The train station was in the middle of the Plaza de Armas, a grand square surrounded by buildings of classical architecture and big arches. This was the first square founded by the first Queen of the House of Trastamara. Her raw Curses had given rise to the buildings and the skeleton of the station, built from raw earth and stones of Antarctica, in a way that even the greatest masons of the fifteenth century would envy.

  “Strike team arrives in five,” Palmira’s voice warned me.

  I unsheathed my firearm and removed the safety. I stepped up the stairs to find myself on the balcony above the platforms. It was bizarre to see the platforms empty, but that would also make things easier. I winced a bit as the afternoon sun shone in my eyes.

  The station had no roof. It was only a hub surrounded by arches and stairs, and all the trains exited through its main gate and through the Plaza de Armas. I hadn’t realized before, as the few times I had visited this station in my life, I was in transit and surrounded by people, but its architecture had an obvious inspiration: the Colosseum. Surrounded by arches, no roof, in the middle of a square. The only difference from an ancient Latin arena was the platforms with trains stationed.

  I wore my sunglasses. I had already noted all the exits and had memorized how the platforms were connected.

  “Here you are,” I said the moment I spotted the Transantarctic. It was a train, not as large as the rest, as it was meant only to reach London, but easy to tell apart as it was painted white.

  I walked as quickly as I could without making noise. Corner to corner, shadow to shadow. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that if I had figured this out, others would have as well. The question was who and how many.

  I went down the stairs to the fourth platform, where the Transantarctic lay waiting. I kept looking left and right, waiting for someone to appear at any moment.

  Nothing. No one. I lowered my weapon and started walking faster. I had no access to the train, but breaking and entering was not beyond me.

  I WISH I COULD HAVE FIGURED IT OUT ALIVE.

  Floating letters drawn by Catalina appeared.

  “You had no chance. You did not know how I soothed everyone’s memories. I did not even know until you showed me this morning,” I said, recounting how she had uncovered how the Prince had used my Curse aboard the Transantarctic.

  AND THEN I DIED.

  “And then you died.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  A soft voice breaching the silence. A real voice, not Catalina’s. I turned around, raised my firearm, and aimed, ready to pull the trigger.

  It was her. Dressed in light purple silken clothes. They were see-through under the sunshine, and I could see her pale skin shine as she walked from the shadow into the sun’s spotlight. Her face was covered with a square white mask, like when I saw her earlier that morning. And on her shoulder, I could see a gauze underneath the silk, at the spot where one of my shots had scathed her last time. Not invincible, apparently.

  The Weaver.

  “Liang Hanying. Don’t move, or I will reap you,” I threatened her. I had already shot a named bullet to Oriol Romero for the first time earlier that day; perhaps I could do this with her, too. Perhaps not.

  She tilted her head and stopped walking. She took off her mask, revealing behind it a version of the woman I had seen only in pictures and videos. A version weathered, wrinkled, and with a scar on her jaw. But also, more determined. Her cheekbones were clenched, as if she was restraining herself.

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  “Nice to meet you, Elena Riquelme,” she said, “don’t worry, you can trust your name in me.”

  I flinched. How did she know my father’s name? These are redacted by all registries when made a T-Agent.

  “Surrender and you will be arrested. Fight back and I will shoot,” I said. But it made no sense. I looked left and right – she was alone. Not only that, but I could see no weapon on her. What was her plan? I slowly walked backwards, heading towards the Transantarctic.

  “I would not get closer if I were you. I have rigged the train. And the station,” she said.

  I paused.

  “Explosives?”

  “Enough to level the station,” she said, “I can trigger them too, although my luck is preventing me from doing so, unless I am left with no other path.”

  Alright. So, I was at her mercy, if I were to believe her. Even though I thought I had figured out everything, it did not matter.

  I lowered my weapon, frustrated. “I don’t understand. If you know what is in there, why don’t you just go take it?”

  “I am pushing my luck,” she answered, “why don’t you back off from there, and give me your firearm? I promise I will let you go.”

  LISTEN TO HER.

  Of course, Catalina would side with the maniacal terrorist.

  “We are in the perimeter, awaiting your command,” T4-Zhang said through my earpiece.

  “Ev…” acuate I wanted to respond. Instead, the Weaver lunged at me.

  One, two, three shots. The first two missed, and the last jammed my firearm. She jumped on me and kicked the firearm out of my hands first, then kicked me on my head second.

  “Shots fired!” Zhang’s anxious voice shouted in my earpiece, while my world spun.

  I had to get up. Her kick had disoriented me off balance, and it was impossible to stand up.

  “It is… the Weaver,” I tried to warn them, as I saw her quickly jumping onto the train next to platform three, the world still spinning, but trying to focus on her moves. “Three.”

  I was shaken, but also very confused. Hanying could have shot me immediately, but instead left me with a concussion. What was she doing?

  I saw her crouching behind a wagon of a train, but before I could see more, I threw up. She did not just kick me; that was some kind of combat hex. She wanted me to be neutralized but not dead.

  “T2 Elena, we are coming in! Are you okay?”

  “I… no, don’t…” I tried to respond between retching, but it was impossible to form a word in my haze. I heard them sprinting on the station’s balcony. I heard them shooting as well, their bullets ricocheting away from her.

  STAND UP!

  Catalina’s floating words did not make things easier for my dizziness. “I am trying…” I said as I crawled to take cover behind a column of posters and ads. I turned left, as my stomach churned, and I saw the Weaver aiming behind her post.

  “She has…” I tried to warn them, but she fired the shot. I did not see where she aimed, but I heard the aftermath: an explosion shook the station. Explosives. She was being honest. And she had a gun. I heard the screams of the T-Agents on my comms.

  She fired again, and I looked past the column providing cover for me, as another fireball exploded on the balcony of the station. And another.

  Every explosion shook me, and, ironically enough, woke me from the stupor her hexed kicks had caused. I felt saliva dripping from my mouth as the world stopped spinning.

  “Zhang? Are you there?” I asked. No one responded. I knew what that meant. I turned to my left, and she was still there behind a wagon, ready to take another shot. I ran and jumped on her.

  The firearm shot in the sky, and she fell tumbling down the train racks. I landed right on top of her.

  Her right hand still held onto the gun, but I had pinned her down, and she could not move. I placed my knees right on her thighs, with all the pressure I could exert. We had fallen on the tracks right between two enormous wagons.

  “Seems like your luck is running out,” I said as I held her still. She looked right into my eyes. She did not struggle at all, making me even more uneasy than before. I tightened my grip as much as I could, but she did not resist.

  I could hear T-Agents sprinting. More reinforcements.

  “We are between platform three and two,” I shouted through comms, hoping they would hear me quickly enough.

  I leaned low on her so that she could hear me.

  “This is even better than I hoped for. I thought I would have to hunt you down after I found your token, but here you were surrendering yourself,” I said and smiled, “fucking terrorist.”

  The T-Agents were rushing; I could hear them running on the platforms. Tens of them. And was that a helicopter in the distance?

  “There is nowhere you can go now.”

  Her expression changed, as if she had been waiting for those words for a while. She smiled.

  “In that case, then. Fire them off,” she said.