AU Fanfiction: The Great Train Robbery
Title: The Great Train Robbery
AU: Weird West
Rating: R
Author’s Note: I blame Jag for not stopping me when she had the chance. More weird west, this time using the Losers, trying to blend the weird, the west and their story. I either need a life or a job in the worst way. Enjoy!
---
Standing on a high bluff, Clay ran his eyes over the railroad tracks a few yards below him. The steel was still bright, not yet worn down by hundreds of trains going over it again and again. He could already pick out a few tarnished places though. It would only be a matter of time before the new gave way. That was the way things went in the west, everything worn down.
Right now though, the companies back east who built this were raking in money hand over fist. He knew that this route which twisted its way through the low mountains of Colorado had purposefully been built on a twisting, winding path not because it was the safest route but because the rail company could charge passengers more. Greed was King in the West. He knew it just like he knew the sun would rise and that his men were the best train robbers anywhere. The James Gang couldn’t even come close. They might have been a group of Army deserters but the Army was the one that lost out.
“Boss,” Cougar’s voice came through the telegraph charm hanging around his neck, sounding like the man was standing right next to him even though he was miles away from them, perched on some rocky ledge.
Clay pressed a finger against the circle of metal, a little bit of magic tickling his finger as he activated the spell that let him talk to the Gunslinger. “Go ahead.”
“Train’s crossed the check point.”
“Got it.” He looked over at Jensen on the horse next to him. “You’re up.”
“Alright fellas, watch the magic happen. Prepare to be dazzled, amazed and astounded as I, Jensen the Magnificent, bring a thousand pounds of steel to a halt… with my mind!” Jensen swung out of the saddle, rubbing his hands together as he walked closer to the edge of the bluff. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Another breath in and another breath out, but this time smoke curled up from Jensen’s mouth, thick and black. Clay could smell the soot in it. When he leaned forward in the saddle he could see Jensen’s blue eyes had become glowing red-orange, flickering unnaturally. He was already in the trains stove. There was always something slightly unnerving to him about Jensen’s Engineer abilities. Jensen’s mind was in the train that was just coming into view, belching the same black smoke as what drifted out of Jensen’s mouth with every breath out while the man’s body was there, unoccupied except for glowing eyes and black smoke. It just wasn’t natural.
Revelation had done that to the world. One breath everyone in the world was just normal, average Joes and then in the next there was magic, demons, angels, ghosts and all sorts of shit Clay had never wanted to deal with in his life but now he did every day. Now, he was one of those things that was unnatural but existed anyway because the world operated under new rules.
Jensen began to take shallower and shallower breaths in, still breathing out black smoke but the plumes were getting smaller and smaller. On the track, the train’s regular chug, chug, chug was slowing as the smoke from the stack started to die out. The sparks in Jensen’s eyes were dimming too. In a few more breaths, Jensen would have the stove snuffed out and the train would either roll to a stop or the engineer would pull the breaks.
The breaks came on first. The screamed angrily off the rocky walls of the pass, making their horses dance in place for a moment before they settled. Still, he waited for the train and Jensen to let out the last puff of smoke before making any sort of move.
“Did anyone order one Washington bound train with a government gold deposit riding in the mail car? Anyone?” Jensen grinned, his eyes once again bright blue.
“Nice work.” Clay picked up his reins and adjusted his seat in the saddle as he reached for the telegraph charm again. “Cougar, see anything?”
“Movement in the third car, heading towards the back. Union blues.”
“Only three for a gold shipment?” Roque spat out his customary toothpick. “Seems a little low.”
“There might be more in the mail car. I’ll go in first,” he said, maneuvering his horse around the others to the hillside path that led down to the tracks.
“At least we got the right train this time,” Pooch said, shooing Jensen a pointed look over his shoulder.
“Do you know how hard it is to pick messages out of a telegraph line?” the Engineer huffed. “There’s like hundreds of them racing around all the time. It’s like a crowded bar! I can barely hear myself think. Picking out the right message from all that? It’s like finding gold without a Douser. Lucky. You want to try next time?”
“Enough. Let’s go.” He dug his spurs in and went pell-mell down the side.
This was how they survived out west. Train robbing wasn’t a noble profession, but they couldn’t be too picking considering the US Army wanted them all dead for desertion. None of them cared a lick about that though. He knew that they still heard the screams of the women and children from the Black Hills raid. They still smelled the gunpowder and blood in their sleep just like he did. What the Army had sent them to do that day, well, it haunted them all like a ghost even though there was nothing they could’ve done.
They had been temporarily assigned to a General Max, a man who had done all his leading through his Lieutenant, a man who went by Wade. It was strange, but Clay hadn’t questioned it at the time. They were sent where they were needed, always had been since their special unit had been formed shortly after Revelation. They rode with Lieutenant Wade and his men up to the Black Hills, rode in with them as they attacked what was supposed to be a camp of rebel Indians. It was nothing more than the slaughter of a whole village. He had tried, all of them had tried, to stop it but they’d failed. They rode away from Lieutenant Wade that night and started this, train robbing.
It wasn’t good, but it was better than the Army.
“Jensen, Pooch, secure the engineer and make sure this train doesn’t go anywhere until we’re done with it,” he yelled over the thunder of their horses’ hooves. “Roque, with me in the mail car.”
They split, Jensen and Pooch heading for the front of the train while he and Roque rode to the back. The last car on the train was the mail car and he knew the Union soldiers would already be inside. He rolled his shoulders as he reined in at the car’s sliding door. Jumping down from his horse he grabbed the edge and yanked, hard. The door resisted for half a second before it opened, the heavy metal locking bar breaking with a heavy crack.
“Step back!” yelled one of the soldiers.
Clay ignored him, planting his hands on the floor and hauling himself up into the car without pausing a second. The soldiers opened fire immediately. The first few shots, two from a repeater and the rest from Peacemakers, caught him squarely in the chest. He walked through the hail of bullets to the soldier nearest him, grabbed the barrel of his gun and crushed it in his fist.
“What are you?” the soldier asked, eyes wide in horror.
“Just a dead man who didn’t quite get the notice,” he replied easily then grabbed the soldier by the front of his shirt and hurled him out of the car.
Roque joined him, hurling a bright glowing ball at one soldier. It hit the man on the shoulder and exploded. His arm dropped to the floor while he screamed. Roque shut him up with a bullet to the head. The third soldier chose self preservation over fighting and ran back the way he came through the other cars. Clay didn’t worry, if Jensen and Pooch didn’t intercept him Cougar would take him out. He rolled his shoulders again as his wounds started to heal.
“You see the safe?” he asked, scanning the various packages, mail sacks and other items on their way back east.
“I see safes.”
“What?” He looked over his shoulder.
Roque stood in front of three heavy iron safes, all lined up against one wall in a neat little row. None of them had any sort of identifying marks. They were just plain black safes. He sighed heavily.
“Blow them all.”
Roque chuckled under his breath then put a finger to the lock of the first safe. It glowed an angry red color for a second and then exploded. He brought his arm up for cover as bits of metal flew in every which way. For the second and third safe he retreated as far as he could get, arms still up protectively even though he was already, technically, dead.
Lt. Colonel Franklin Clay had died in the Black Hills. Lieutenant Wade had shot him and left him in the remains of the village to take the blame. With so much death, so many restless spirits and the magic of Revelation still in the air the death hadn’t taken. He rose a few hours later, wounds healing, body stronger, tougher and damn near unstoppable. He was Risen and still not sure he was happy about it.
“Jackpot,” Roque said with a grin. He swung the doors of the safes open and each was filled with gold.
“Outstanding,” he said and tossed Roque a canvas bag.
When Jensen and Pooch joined them, they started a chain. Roque and Pooch loaded the bags while Jensen and him loaded the horses. They only paused when they heard a horse coming, but it was just Cougar.
“Look at this!” Jensen said excitedly, “What are you going to get with your share? I’m thinking you’re going to get a new rifle, Clay will get some expensive alcohol, Roque expensive women and Pooch will send most of his to his wife.”
“Yeah?” Roque tossed a heavy bag at Jensen who caught it letting out a breath, “You going to blow it all on useless pieces of metal again?”
“Hey, they’re not useless. I’m going to make them work once I figure out how to get the electricity to stay in the machine. I need like a little pack of it, small enough to fit in my hand that could store a charge. I’m working on it.”
“That’s it,” Clay interrupted. If he let Jensen go, the man would rattle on about whatever invention he was working on for hours. “Pooch, take us home.”
“My favorite part of the day.” Pooch walked a few steps away from them while they gathered the horses together.
He just looked at the air in front of him for a moment, then swept his arms open. The air split, revealing their hide out right through the tear. Pooch grinned and gestured them forward with a dramatic bow. Clay shook his head at the theatrics but started walking forward, right through the opening. He passed through, his stomach revolting for a second as he went hundreds of miles in a few seconds. When he was through, he stood back to watch the rest of his men come through followed by Pooch who closed the tear with a clap of his hands.
That’s why they were the best.
---
That night he took part of his share with him to Tombstone with Roque and they picked a real nice whorehouse. He still ended up shoved into a wall with a knife at his throat and one pissed off hooker glaring at him.
“I can help you find Max,” she snarled.
He licked his lips, not sure whether it was nerves or because she was one fine little pistol but he wasn’t a fool.
“I’m listening.”
---
AU: Weird West
Rating: R
Author’s Note: I blame Jag for not stopping me when she had the chance. More weird west, this time using the Losers, trying to blend the weird, the west and their story. I either need a life or a job in the worst way. Enjoy!
---
Standing on a high bluff, Clay ran his eyes over the railroad tracks a few yards below him. The steel was still bright, not yet worn down by hundreds of trains going over it again and again. He could already pick out a few tarnished places though. It would only be a matter of time before the new gave way. That was the way things went in the west, everything worn down.
Right now though, the companies back east who built this were raking in money hand over fist. He knew that this route which twisted its way through the low mountains of Colorado had purposefully been built on a twisting, winding path not because it was the safest route but because the rail company could charge passengers more. Greed was King in the West. He knew it just like he knew the sun would rise and that his men were the best train robbers anywhere. The James Gang couldn’t even come close. They might have been a group of Army deserters but the Army was the one that lost out.
“Boss,” Cougar’s voice came through the telegraph charm hanging around his neck, sounding like the man was standing right next to him even though he was miles away from them, perched on some rocky ledge.
Clay pressed a finger against the circle of metal, a little bit of magic tickling his finger as he activated the spell that let him talk to the Gunslinger. “Go ahead.”
“Train’s crossed the check point.”
“Got it.” He looked over at Jensen on the horse next to him. “You’re up.”
“Alright fellas, watch the magic happen. Prepare to be dazzled, amazed and astounded as I, Jensen the Magnificent, bring a thousand pounds of steel to a halt… with my mind!” Jensen swung out of the saddle, rubbing his hands together as he walked closer to the edge of the bluff. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Another breath in and another breath out, but this time smoke curled up from Jensen’s mouth, thick and black. Clay could smell the soot in it. When he leaned forward in the saddle he could see Jensen’s blue eyes had become glowing red-orange, flickering unnaturally. He was already in the trains stove. There was always something slightly unnerving to him about Jensen’s Engineer abilities. Jensen’s mind was in the train that was just coming into view, belching the same black smoke as what drifted out of Jensen’s mouth with every breath out while the man’s body was there, unoccupied except for glowing eyes and black smoke. It just wasn’t natural.
Revelation had done that to the world. One breath everyone in the world was just normal, average Joes and then in the next there was magic, demons, angels, ghosts and all sorts of shit Clay had never wanted to deal with in his life but now he did every day. Now, he was one of those things that was unnatural but existed anyway because the world operated under new rules.
Jensen began to take shallower and shallower breaths in, still breathing out black smoke but the plumes were getting smaller and smaller. On the track, the train’s regular chug, chug, chug was slowing as the smoke from the stack started to die out. The sparks in Jensen’s eyes were dimming too. In a few more breaths, Jensen would have the stove snuffed out and the train would either roll to a stop or the engineer would pull the breaks.
The breaks came on first. The screamed angrily off the rocky walls of the pass, making their horses dance in place for a moment before they settled. Still, he waited for the train and Jensen to let out the last puff of smoke before making any sort of move.
“Did anyone order one Washington bound train with a government gold deposit riding in the mail car? Anyone?” Jensen grinned, his eyes once again bright blue.
“Nice work.” Clay picked up his reins and adjusted his seat in the saddle as he reached for the telegraph charm again. “Cougar, see anything?”
“Movement in the third car, heading towards the back. Union blues.”
“Only three for a gold shipment?” Roque spat out his customary toothpick. “Seems a little low.”
“There might be more in the mail car. I’ll go in first,” he said, maneuvering his horse around the others to the hillside path that led down to the tracks.
“At least we got the right train this time,” Pooch said, shooing Jensen a pointed look over his shoulder.
“Do you know how hard it is to pick messages out of a telegraph line?” the Engineer huffed. “There’s like hundreds of them racing around all the time. It’s like a crowded bar! I can barely hear myself think. Picking out the right message from all that? It’s like finding gold without a Douser. Lucky. You want to try next time?”
“Enough. Let’s go.” He dug his spurs in and went pell-mell down the side.
This was how they survived out west. Train robbing wasn’t a noble profession, but they couldn’t be too picking considering the US Army wanted them all dead for desertion. None of them cared a lick about that though. He knew that they still heard the screams of the women and children from the Black Hills raid. They still smelled the gunpowder and blood in their sleep just like he did. What the Army had sent them to do that day, well, it haunted them all like a ghost even though there was nothing they could’ve done.
They had been temporarily assigned to a General Max, a man who had done all his leading through his Lieutenant, a man who went by Wade. It was strange, but Clay hadn’t questioned it at the time. They were sent where they were needed, always had been since their special unit had been formed shortly after Revelation. They rode with Lieutenant Wade and his men up to the Black Hills, rode in with them as they attacked what was supposed to be a camp of rebel Indians. It was nothing more than the slaughter of a whole village. He had tried, all of them had tried, to stop it but they’d failed. They rode away from Lieutenant Wade that night and started this, train robbing.
It wasn’t good, but it was better than the Army.
“Jensen, Pooch, secure the engineer and make sure this train doesn’t go anywhere until we’re done with it,” he yelled over the thunder of their horses’ hooves. “Roque, with me in the mail car.”
They split, Jensen and Pooch heading for the front of the train while he and Roque rode to the back. The last car on the train was the mail car and he knew the Union soldiers would already be inside. He rolled his shoulders as he reined in at the car’s sliding door. Jumping down from his horse he grabbed the edge and yanked, hard. The door resisted for half a second before it opened, the heavy metal locking bar breaking with a heavy crack.
“Step back!” yelled one of the soldiers.
Clay ignored him, planting his hands on the floor and hauling himself up into the car without pausing a second. The soldiers opened fire immediately. The first few shots, two from a repeater and the rest from Peacemakers, caught him squarely in the chest. He walked through the hail of bullets to the soldier nearest him, grabbed the barrel of his gun and crushed it in his fist.
“What are you?” the soldier asked, eyes wide in horror.
“Just a dead man who didn’t quite get the notice,” he replied easily then grabbed the soldier by the front of his shirt and hurled him out of the car.
Roque joined him, hurling a bright glowing ball at one soldier. It hit the man on the shoulder and exploded. His arm dropped to the floor while he screamed. Roque shut him up with a bullet to the head. The third soldier chose self preservation over fighting and ran back the way he came through the other cars. Clay didn’t worry, if Jensen and Pooch didn’t intercept him Cougar would take him out. He rolled his shoulders again as his wounds started to heal.
“You see the safe?” he asked, scanning the various packages, mail sacks and other items on their way back east.
“I see safes.”
“What?” He looked over his shoulder.
Roque stood in front of three heavy iron safes, all lined up against one wall in a neat little row. None of them had any sort of identifying marks. They were just plain black safes. He sighed heavily.
“Blow them all.”
Roque chuckled under his breath then put a finger to the lock of the first safe. It glowed an angry red color for a second and then exploded. He brought his arm up for cover as bits of metal flew in every which way. For the second and third safe he retreated as far as he could get, arms still up protectively even though he was already, technically, dead.
Lt. Colonel Franklin Clay had died in the Black Hills. Lieutenant Wade had shot him and left him in the remains of the village to take the blame. With so much death, so many restless spirits and the magic of Revelation still in the air the death hadn’t taken. He rose a few hours later, wounds healing, body stronger, tougher and damn near unstoppable. He was Risen and still not sure he was happy about it.
“Jackpot,” Roque said with a grin. He swung the doors of the safes open and each was filled with gold.
“Outstanding,” he said and tossed Roque a canvas bag.
When Jensen and Pooch joined them, they started a chain. Roque and Pooch loaded the bags while Jensen and him loaded the horses. They only paused when they heard a horse coming, but it was just Cougar.
“Look at this!” Jensen said excitedly, “What are you going to get with your share? I’m thinking you’re going to get a new rifle, Clay will get some expensive alcohol, Roque expensive women and Pooch will send most of his to his wife.”
“Yeah?” Roque tossed a heavy bag at Jensen who caught it letting out a breath, “You going to blow it all on useless pieces of metal again?”
“Hey, they’re not useless. I’m going to make them work once I figure out how to get the electricity to stay in the machine. I need like a little pack of it, small enough to fit in my hand that could store a charge. I’m working on it.”
“That’s it,” Clay interrupted. If he let Jensen go, the man would rattle on about whatever invention he was working on for hours. “Pooch, take us home.”
“My favorite part of the day.” Pooch walked a few steps away from them while they gathered the horses together.
He just looked at the air in front of him for a moment, then swept his arms open. The air split, revealing their hide out right through the tear. Pooch grinned and gestured them forward with a dramatic bow. Clay shook his head at the theatrics but started walking forward, right through the opening. He passed through, his stomach revolting for a second as he went hundreds of miles in a few seconds. When he was through, he stood back to watch the rest of his men come through followed by Pooch who closed the tear with a clap of his hands.
That’s why they were the best.
---
That night he took part of his share with him to Tombstone with Roque and they picked a real nice whorehouse. He still ended up shoved into a wall with a knife at his throat and one pissed off hooker glaring at him.
“I can help you find Max,” she snarled.
He licked his lips, not sure whether it was nerves or because she was one fine little pistol but he wasn’t a fool.
“I’m listening.”
---