A/N- Holy shit… I just had an earthquake here. –laughs- It wasn’t that serious though. Now regarding GA… -stares at the current total number of reviews- Wow… I was expecting it to be pitiful. At least some people liked it… return, my lovelies! –cries- XD

Bah… there is a huge section dealing with Wilzark and Sephiria 'cause the manga didn't further explain their relationship and I needed to provide the overall theme of the story. I've changed some people's jobs 'cause if I didn't, then all their relationships wouldn't change a damn thing. Oh but I will provide the basic elements of each so you won’t be missing your savvy sweeper action and the like. -winks- As for my TA fans, I’m sorry but please be patient while I'm working on it.

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Betaed by: Leopardus Pardalis!

Thank you so much for editing this story. You rock!

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DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Black Cat though I wish I did. I could be rich selling Creed/Train merchandise by now!

Golden Abyss

Chapter Two:

His Arrivée

Train stared dispassionately at the ranting female in front of him as he slouched further into his seat. What was he doing here in the empty hallways, listening to the latest talk of fashion when he could have been outside bounty-hunting and ridding the streets of terror with Sven? Or maybe I could try sneaking into the kitchen and grabbing a bite. Or I could simply endure the torture of helping the trio with their décor? Naa… it ain’t worth it. I still remember when Cerberus chased me out into the streets when I said that they had bad tastes. Sheesh! I was just stating the obvious. There was no need for them to take such violent and drastic measures. …I will never doubt Nizer’s Dioskuroi ever again.

And at least Sephiria didn’t approve of Baldorias’s and Kranz’s offer to help. Knowing them, they would just drag in rotting corpses, and paint the room with blood and pass it off as good décor.

Oh lord…. I’m going insane. Train groaned inwardly; the fact that he was thinking about décor clearly reflected his current state of mind. He shifted in his seat, and his eyes roved upwards as he tried to count the number of holes in the huge ceiling to pass off his boredom.

Rinslet is a bad influence, he concluded as he listened to the talk of yukatas spawn into stiletto heels. I never knew I could be this bored listening to her ramble about stuff she knows guys don’t care about. Yup, sometimes his Japanese fiancé bored him to the point of sleep.

“Train, honey? Hello…? You in there, big guy?” Saya stared back at the glazed, golden eyes. Her teal irises were starting to flicker violet, reflecting the shimmering rage bubbling inside despite her outer calm facade. He could at least have the courtesy of trying to feign attention. Saya pouted. “Oi! Snap out of it!”

“Huh? Oh, what about the shoes?” Train said as he snapped back into focus.

Saya squealed in happiness as she pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly against her chest. “Hey, you did listen! I knew you came with the full package!”

And it was true. When she was still a grad and a sweeper-rookie, she met Train at one of her missions. Not only was she charmed by his rugged good looks—brunettes had never looked so good— Saya had immediately known he was her fated one when their eyes met. That and his impressive feat when he knocked out the criminal she spent all night trying to catch. Saya nearly swooned as she looked down dreamily at the head of the man she loved. Ever since their first date, she was constantly showered with gifts and nonstop attention. But lately, Train has been spacing out. I wonder what’s going on… is my conversation really that boring?

“Umm… Saya?” He was really at a lost for words.

“Yup?”

“I don’t know how to put this… but… uhh….”

“Go on,” she crooned.

“Not it’s just-! Erm, I can’t really… I can’t breathe!” he gasped. “Let… go!”

Saya flushed. “Sorry, Train,” she apologized as she reluctantly relinquished her hold, “but you don’t have to worry if you somehow… died. I could raise you from the dead!”

“You’re not a necromancer, Saya. You’re a witch.” He pointed out as he sank further back into his chair. “And no, I don’t need your help. The last time you attempted to help sent me to the hospital.” Noting the stricken look on her face, he hurriedly finished with, “You’re enough help standing there. You’re good company.” Hopefully she won’t notice my pained expression when I said that.

“…Touché. Anyhow, what’s with you? You’ve been acting so moody lately. Are you secretly PMS-ing?”

“Well excuse me, Miss Fashion Diva! And I am not PMS-ing! Do I look like I have boobs?”

“Says you, Mr. Puss in Boots! Hey, you can’t even transform into a canine.”

“I’m not a werecat… I’m a Felix. And for your information, canines are dogs. You’re referring to werewolves, and they stink to the high heavens.” Train retorted. It always irked him whenever someone confused him for a shiftshaper or better yet, a stupid werewolf. What is it with people and werewolves? Werewolves are not even close to being remotely cool! “Felixes kick ass,” he muttered quietly to himself. If he had a dime for every time some stupid idiot decided to test his patience, he would be stinking rich. …Not that Sven would mind of course. “And stop poking me, damn it!”

“Well geez, Train. What crawled up your arse and died? You’re not the boss of me! I’ll stop when I feel like it. And for once in your life, take off that damn jacket! Don’t you feel hot in there?”

“At least I’m not the one wearing a stuffy yukata in a room filled with heaters. It’s hot in here! Seriously Saya, not one sane person wears that getup around here.”

“Well, at least I’m not as hot as you!”

His lips quirked up leisurely in a devious smile as his eyebrows arched to his hairline. “Are you saying that I’m hot?” he purred. “Why Saya, I never knew you thought that way. And might I help you relieve the pressure by slowly peeling that attire off your lovely figure?”

His lips curved further back into a toothy smile. Trust the little princess to give out splendid love advice, he thought with glee. It was turning out exactly as his little counselor had predicted. Saya’s face looked just like a bright red tomato, complete with cropped brown hair and bewitching blue eyes. And I had thought Love 101 was useless.

Saya’s jaw dropped, stunned at the sudden bold comments. Holy bleep! Uhh, woah! Did he just… hit on me? "Hey, you know what, Train? ...Did you hear something? Anyhow, I better check it out. Seems suspicious. Busy, busy me. So… see ya! Business... uhh, nature calls!” she said in a rush as she hurried down the halls with the hem of her getup flapping rather unladylike after her fleeing form. “I’ll be at home waiting for you!” She tugged a random door open.

“The hell? But-”

The slamming of the door cut off his sentence.

“-You said you were going to stay with me the whole day.” He said softly, his hurt shown through his voice.

--

“Number I,” a scratchy voice pounded through the female’s eardrums. “What is the meaning of this?”

Sephiria sighed, pressing her cool fingers against her forehead, massaging her temples.

“Inviting Creed Diskenth and his merry band of circus freaks to this meeting; this is pure idiocy!”

“That may be, sire, but I am confident in my decision. Inviting the Hoshi no Shito is what we need in this time of crisis.” Her tired voice rang out, traveling through the speakers behind her back and across continents.

“They are useless!”

“But doesn’t their inactivity seem suspicious to you?”

“Perhaps they had lost interest of their ridiculous proposal of world conquest. Or maybe Diskenth is going through rehab. Whatever the case may be, it doesn’t merit your call.”

And people say that I’m stubborn, Sephiria thought. “Elder, by all means of respect, I must remind you that it is much too late to cancel the summoning-”

“Because of you!”

“-But our organization’s tight control over our limited power is crumbling. Someone or something is tapping into our financial banks and emptying them of their contents. As of now, our patrons are withdrawing their support! Elder, I understand that you are unnerved of the invitations I’d sent, but we must gather allies as soon as possible. And humans are worthless to our cause.”

“By scattering meaningless summons to the major organizations of the world?”

“But of course.” Sephiria’s lips quirked upwards, the curtain of her eyelashes fluttering open to reveal dazzling cerulean orbs devoid of warmth. Cool and calculating. “It is the union of across the world; us being the West, the Hoshi no Shito of the East, the Zero Numbers of the North, and the Sweeper Alliance of the South.”

“Are you implying that one of them is responsible for all this… trouble?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her hands folded in her lap. She chose her next words carefully. “In order to find the one responsible, we must lay out the bait.”

Silence. A buzzing static, the only noise in the dim office. She closed her eyes, leaning against the tall Victorian chair carved and manufactured out of solid oak. Her long, luxurious hair swept behind her in a taut ponytail pressed against the back of her head, the pale golden bangs swept to a side to reveal the number ‘I’ tattooed on her forehead, entwined with two curling thunderbolts. She was wearing nothing but a long men’s shirt that pressed against her chest, her breasts rising and then lowering steadily to the beat of her heart. The weight of the world on her shoulders took a toll on her beautiful appearance. Dark shadows lay beneath her eyes, her skin waxy and pale; she was the paradigm of sickly beauty.

There was a slight intake of breath.

“We haven’t got a choice now, haven’t we?” he said, barely above a whisper. “So we’re the fishermen chasing after the fish.”

The uncomfortable silence continued. Seconds seemed like hours to the both of them as minutes ticked on by.

“Elder?” she asked, the first to break the stillness.

A rustling noise and a whispery sigh.

“For years, Sephiria, I have lived on. Past centuries, past millenniums, death wouldn’t grant me my final wish. And I am stuck in this aged flesh to remind me of my past sins.” There was a dry chuckle. “When I was but a young man, I had nurtured and watched the birth of Chronos proudly with my heart on my sleeve. Never had I imagined in a hundred years Chronos, an empire with one thirds of the world within its grasp, would end up like this on the threshold of obliteration.

“Chronos had made many enemies as well as allies, and we finally got the cream of the crop; one sly as a fox and as persistent as a shark with blood in his mind. He, she, or they will stop at nothing to see to the destruction of Chronos. I’ve trained you to be a powerful individual with the capability of thinking for yourself. Sephiria… do you remember the times when you sat on my lap?”

She nodded mutely, a bit of warmth returning into the depths of her heart. “Yes. I was playing with your bread when you were lecturing me of the finer points of being a lady, Wilzark. I mean, Elder.”

A series of dry rasps that only she could identify as laughter echoed into her ears. “Now, now Sephiria.” Wilzark had a light tone to his voice. “We don’t have to act like professionals when there’s no one around except us.”

“But you’ll never know when you’re truly alone. You taught me that years ago.”

“…You were always so smart,” Wilzark murmured. “Even up to this point, I couldn’t beat you at chess.”

She laughed, a bubble of giggles emitted out of her throat. “Let’s see you tell that to me in my face and not through a speakerphone.”

“And so, I trust that you will dispose of this matter as a professional?” The mood turned serious.

She banished the laughter as she adopted a grim face. “I promise you that I will not fail your expectations.”

“I do not need your word for it. Your actions will speak for itself. Keep your chin up and your mind alert. Who knows when they will attack, but as soon as they do, strike back with all your might—never mind the situation.”

“Elder, I know what to do. I’m a grown woman.”

“There is no such thing as knowing everything there is to know. Be careful of what you do for we cannot afford anymore mistakes. The future of Chronos lies in your hands. Please take good care of us.”

“Is there really a need to build on the pressure?”

“I’m just telling you the reality of the situation we are in now. There cannot be any hesitations.” A yawn. “Now, it is growing late, and I must retire to my bed.”

She began, “Have a goodnight’s-”

“-Wait! What of the matter with Heartnet? He’s not one of the Numbers anymore.”

“Number XIII?”

“Do not call him that,” Wilzark roared his voice as sharp as a blade.

Sephiria flinched. “Yes, of course. What about him invoked your curiosity?”

“What is he still doing here? And I’m particularly interested on why he’s participating….”

She hesitated.

“Well?” Wilzark asked, impatience lining his voice.

“Because my gut tells me that this will not start off successfully without enlisting Heartnet’s help,” she blurted.

She was taught to never trust her gut instincts for it was equivalent to showing compassion for an enemy. It was how Train Heartnet was kicked out of the Numbers. To fail Chronos’ expectations merited death. Belze Rochefort, her familiar, saw the potential of Train’s abilities and had put in a good word for him, convincing the reluctant Elders to spare him of execution. As a punishment for failing and escaping with his life, Train was instantly demoted from the elite class of assassins and into the catering business. He was not allowed to delve into any other career.

Of course, it had killed his pride though his cocky mannerisms still remained. Everyone connected to Train had laughed boisterously when learning of his humiliation, though Saya Minatsuki had pointed out the good side of the demotion. ‘At least you still have a job and a life,’ she had said.

“Your gut!” Wilzark spluttered.

“Of all the other Numbers, only Heartnet is reliable to put out any trouble without causing chaos. I don’t know how to describe it, but I need Heartnet. It’s a do or die situation.”

“…But he’s a butler now.” His voice sounded dubious, not that she could blame him. “Surely his skills must have had eroded by now. And he’s wearing those clothes; I know from experience that it’s hard to act quickly in that outfit.”

“Experience?”

A cough. “Trust me when I say that you do not want to know. Though his fiancé must be happy seeing him in such an outfit…,” he trailed off. “I wonder if they had done it yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. Women eye after a piece of candy like him.”

“Elder, I really do not think that it’s appropriate to discuss whether or not Heartnet still has his virginity intact.” The topic was starting to disturb her. After all, she had worked alongside with Heartnet for quite some years and she considered him somewhat of a close associate. There were times when she considered him a friend, but rarely. “Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose?”

“I try my best.” Sephiria could just envision the Elder shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t cause a scene now, Number I.”

“Goodnight, Elder,” she said, a bit miffed by the concern he was showing.

“Goodnight, Number I.”

The line went dead.

Hearing the barely audible click, she stood up and squinted in the dim-lighted room. She slipped on her coat and felt her way out, her fingers sliding and groping over walls and other items. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the outside, she pressed a finger on the intercom. The flat look returned as the little white machine beeped and came to life. “Code AE408. Sephiria Arks. Bypass restriction 461.”

“Code confirmed. Bypass all standard procedure of security and greetings. Sephiria Arks, isn’t it such a pleasant day? Number I, class Yokai, Caucasian. Anything else I could do for you, Number I?” a female’s voice, robotic and polite, asked.

A rookie, Sephiria decided. There was a slight eagerness in the female’s voice that only the newcomers of Chronos had. Usually, all the professional secretaries had a dull drone imbedded in their voice.

“Find me Number II. I request his audience.”

“Order confirmed. Number II, Belze Rochefort, class Otso and your Familiar, Caucasian. Anything else I could do for you, Number I?”

Trust a newbie to get to the point easily, she thought. “Please alert Heartnet that we are in need of his… catering abilities. Direct him to our private library.”

“Of course, Number I! Anything else now?”

Sephiria could detect a trace of smugness in the female’s voice. “No, that is all… Miss?”

“Tanya. Have a nice day, Number I.”

“Good day to you too, Tanya.”

--

Damn it, Saya groused. He always toys with me!

Whenever Train got into one of his good moods, he always knew which buttons to push. Saya was still unused to his flirtatious teasing, and that damn smile of his always made her knees buckle. Why can’t he realize that sometimes I need him to be serious in our relationship? Only I can tease him! There can only be one joker in this relationship, and it ain’t him. Ooh… I should’ve turned him into a frog that time. I don’t know what made me hold back.

"…le."

Her train of thoughts skidded into a halt. “Huh?” She craned her head automatically, straining to hear the softly spoken words. She was in the dark hallways with candlelight flickering on and off eerily. To this day, she still wondered why Chronos had not installed good ol' electricity instead of old-fashioned candles and wicks. She walked into another room and fished out her pistol, preparing to catch and disarm the perpetrator. It's better to be paranoid than sorry.

"…Arrêtez-le."

The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Then recognition settled in. "No, not you. Not again!" she hissed. "Damnit, don't you know when to stop and take a well-deserved break? You and I both know we need our vacations... away from each other."

"Arrêtez-le," the ghostly voice repeated again, barely above a whisper.

Oh hell no. It was that damn spirit again (whom she had dubbed 'The Presence'), always lurking nearby, spreading his lies of her beloved Train. But then again, today something seemed different of her ghostly company. He had never spoken a word of French to her before till this day. Saya considered herself an expert of all languages, and this little request in French puzzled her. The Presence wanted her to stop— but for what? Her teal eyes flitted back and forth; her being alone in an empty room with her invisible companion was beginning its affect on the witch.

"Vous fille stupide. Il ne vous aime pas."

A chill of apprehension ran down her back. Something really was wrong. Usually, she ignored the ghostly voice that accompanied her through every waking moment, giving no second thoughts of his insults and lies. But today, the Presence’s words held some sort of power behind it.

“No, Train does love me. Unless you’re talking about some other guy, you’re wrong.”

"Mon Chat Noir ne vous aime pas, vous putain dégoûtante."

“Your… Black Cat? Who is… that?” she croaked, puzzled yet afraid of the answer.

"…Mon Chat Noir… mon Train aimé."

Saya tensed. “Train? He couldn’t be.…” Her pistol was starting to weigh a ton and she could no longer hold it. It dropped soundlessly from her hands and clattered onto the floor. Her arms hung numbly against her sides.

"Mais qui d'autre pourrait-il être? Pourquoi fait il néanmoins restent près de vous? Il ne vous aime pas. Avait-il jamais poussé ces trois mots à vous? Comme comment est-lui allé à moi?"

Much to her horror, she realized he was right. Her Train had not once said “I love you” to her face. Her eyes watered and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She gripped her snow-white yukata, sprinkled with decorative cherry flowers. The familiar feeling of doubt began to rise in her head. Saya squeezed her eyes shut. Stop it.

She shook her head frantically, as if the very action could ward him off. In her confused moment, her fragile mind couldn’t take in the way the voice said all those cutting remarks. Soft and then angry. Rueful and melancholy. Cold and livid. Inquiring and languid.

“You’re not real. This is all in my head.” She chanted, clutching at her head. “You’re not real. This is all in my head. You’re not real. This is all-”

"Ah, je prie de différer."

As she stumbled into the indoor gardening center blindingly, she felt cool hands around her throat, pressing and caressing her swanlike neck. She screamed. She needed to get out! Suddenly, the red roses were becoming clearer and clearer, its thorns sharp and lethal. They were drawing her in; she could no longer keep her eyes away from it. It struck from their designated spots, the roots and steams embedding itself in the wooden posts, blocking the entrance from where she had entered.

Okay… so her alternative exit was gone now. Damnit, she needed to get outside, free from the presence’s manipulation.

Her eyes darted to the window. Outside! Yes, that was what she needed. Fresh air and she would be alright again. Train loves me. There is no way our love is fake. She started to shake, tremors racking her body.

She took a hesitant step forward and then another; her short, heavy strides growing longer and longer.

The scent of flowers was beginning to suffocate her; a carefree laugh ricocheted throughout the gardens. She felt strong, wiry arms lift her up in the air and the whiff of the Felix’s scent wafted through her nostrils. Saya’s eyes widened as she saw a blue mist enveloping her and Train, roughly grabbing her by the hair and tossing her against the wall like a rag doll.

She let out a moan as she slid down to the floor, her head pounding painfully against her skull. She felt a warm liquid slide down the side of her face but it went by unnoticed as tears leaked out of her eyes. Through all the tears and blood, she was starting to see the fog and the white silhouette of the Presence materialize to form a striking man of similar age to her fiancé. The man simply glared at her with his intense blue gaze as his arms encircled around her Train’s delicate shoulders; his body was pressed against her Train’s.

Solid, she wondered. How the hell did he become solid?

Her Train smiled up at the stranger with an expression that he had never shown her before. It was a look of pure devotion, of pure love; it made her heart clench. Their faces were getting nearer and nearer.

And near and nearer. And nearer and nearer. And nearer and nearer and nearer.

It was an endless cycle of torment.

“No,” she whimpered. ”Don’t you dare show me this again. I can’t take it anymore.”

They ignored her pleas.

Nearer and nearer.

“Please stop it! You’re dead, goddamnit! Train loves me, not him.” She screamed, her denial evident. Stop… before I go crazy, she sobbed.

A whispery sigh murmured against her ear. "Montre, sorcière. Montre comme je romps votre charme.”

Their lips locked. Time seemed to stop altogether as the two transparent men in the room demonstrated their sensual performance.

No. No! Let this all be a dream and— was that Train’s tongue? Even the grogginess of her head couldn’t beat the morbid fascination at the little erotic scene played out in front of her. A thought barely registered in her mind. It was like watching the Light and Dark in a play of immortal time. Playing their roles of the submissive and the dominant.

The dominant watching the submissive with his blue eyes. The submissive enjoying his brief dominance and taking the lead.

Her Train’s lips lifted from the mouth of the stranger, and skimmed over to the other’s pale neck, planting little butterfly kisses on his way down. His mouth parted slightly as he settled upon a spot, his pink tongue darting out like a sly serpent. He licked the little pulsing jugular, purring with pleasure like the feline he is. The other man, whom she had came to terms as the presence, groaned, skimming his hands over her Train’s slender body. He nuzzled his face into her Train’s hair.

She couldn’t even muster up an angry protest as all the salvia turned to sawdust in her mouth. Train, she wanted to cry. Get away from that man!

The medium of Light grinded his narrow hips against her Darkness', reveling in her Felix’s mewl of approval.

No, that wasn’t her Train. The clothes were all wrong. When she had left him, he was still wearing his black tail suit with a waistcoat, complete with a little silver tray. This Train wore chain mail armor, some of the metal weaving broken and frayed. This Train bore a black tunic underneath that metal gunk. This Train had a sword attached to his hip. Her Train had a gun. It’s all a trick. Yes, that was what it all was... a trick.

Her eyes refocused and she felt clear in the head. Not a thought penetrated her mind as she shakily pushed herself up from the floor.

The two looked up, two piercing eyes of blue and gold staring into her vacant ones. The presence tilted his head, wisps of silver falling in his eyes. "Où allez-vous? Ne voulez-vous pas nous voir continuer?"

“Shut up,” Saya snarled, plowing through the two apparitions. She felt the faint chill of passing through the ghostly images that drowned out the fire from pumping her legs as fast as she could. She threw herself against the glass panel and into the open air, glass breaking. Train, she thought, I’m coming. It was the last thought she had before the darkness took her in and enveloped her with its cold hug.

She was spared of the painful collision when her body smashed against the ground.

--

“Creed,” Echidna Parass muttered, “this is not fit for an important vampire of the elite class such as you.” Her indigo eyes flashed, her sea green hair hanging down in disarray. “I don’t even know why you agreed to come.” She stuck a small cigarette into her mouth, drew a tiny golden case out of her pockets, and flicked the cap open. Echidna fired up the gold Zippo and sucked in the bitter tang of smoke, letting it pool in her lungs before she exhaled it through her mouth. Her jittery hands stilled.

The vampire poured a shimmering shot of brandy and tipped the scarlet contents of a small vial into the glass. He dumped three ice cubes from the bucket of ice, fixing his drink with an intense stare. He swirled the contents and then took a delicate sip. “Echidna, if you can’t make do in this room, you can leave. Though I do thank you for transporting me all the way from Japan to New York, you’re not needed.”

A frown tugged on her wide lips as she took another drag. “I can’t leave you here. We’re like foreigners in the U.S. of A., and Chronos’ headquarters is huge! What if you got lost in here?”

Creed sighed and tossed back the drink. I swear if not for her money, I would have thrown her out of the Hoshi no Shito eons ago. “I’m old enough to take care of myself, Echidna. I know my way around.” He swirled the liquor, cocking his head to hear the clinking of ice cubes floating in the crystal glass.

Seeing the sultry actress was about to protest, he held up a hand for silence. “Just go look around and see if anything catches your eye. You’re nervous being in a foreign country, I know. Take in the view of the mountaintops or breathe in the clean air. Besides, I know where your plane is. I’ll see you there when the meeting is adjourned.”

Echidna gnawed on her lower lip but sensing the logic in his argument, she gave in. “Fine then. Holler when you need me.” The siren grounded the butt of the cigarette on a nearby chair and stalked out of the room. She rubbed her throbbing temple, feeling her heated face through her fingers. Her purple gaze landed on the still form of Creed’s back and she nearly melted with want. Even from the back, the vampire looked so handsome.

As a siren, she was born with a beautiful voice and a wicked tongue. Echidna could tempt many men, supernatural or human, with just a whisper of her voice and the faintest of gestures. But Creed was different; he was the only one to resist her seduction. Over the years that she had met him, she had continued her games with him but none seemed to affect him.

It was then that she learned of Train, his mate. His companion. His everything. Even saying his name left a bitter taste in her mouth. Creed was shackled to the remnants of Train’s memory, bounded by his delusional love. Even better, Train was dead! To her mind, the very image of the mortal haunted her in sleep and wake, much like how he haunted the tired vampire. His voice taunted her in her dreams, telling her that Creed would be forever his. He was like the perfect rival for Creed’s affections for he was dead. For she cannot do anything. To spoil the memories Creed has of his lover was suicide.

She looked away, mortified that a person of her standing was reduced to nothingness in the mere presence of the vampire. She was helpless to the vampire’s magnetism, even though he himself was oblivious to his attractive looks and charming mannerisms. Echidna’s face flushed. I really need to get away before I go insane. Who knows what I’ll do if this continues. With a last lingering look, she padded into the hallways, her heels tapping a tune on the slick checkerboard-floor.

End Chapter 2:

His Arrivée

Roughly Translated French:

1) “Arrêtez-le.”-

“Stop it.”

-

2) “Vous fille stupide. Il ne vous aime pas.”–

“You stupid girl. He does not love you.”

-

3) “Mon chat noir ne vous aime pas, vous putain dégoûtante.”–

“My Black Cat does not love you, you filthy whore.

-

4) "…Mon Chat Noir… mon Train aimé."-

"...My Black Cat... my beloved Train."

-

5) “Mais qui d'autre pourrait-il être? Pourquoi fait il néanmoins restent près de vous? Il ne vous aime pas. Avait-il jamais poussé ces trois mots à vous? Comme comment est-lui allé à moi?”-

“But who else could it be? Why does he still remain beside you? He does not love you. Had he ever uttered those three words to you? Like how he did to me?”

-

6) “Ah, je prie de différer.”-

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

-

7) “Montre, sorcière. Montre comme je romps votre charme.” –

“Watch, witch. Watch as I break your spell.”

-

8) “Où allez-vous? Ne voulez-vous pas nous voir continuer?”-

“Where are you going? Don't you want to see us continue?”

-

A/N- This has gotta be the longest chapter so far. It’s a nice change now isn’t it? And I’m sure you’re bursting with questions but you’ll find your answers in later chapters. Above are the French translations (provided by Yahoo! Babel Fish). I’m not sure if it's accurate, and I'm not fluent at French. If you happen to catch a mistake, be sure to notify me as soon as you can. Anywho, have a good day guys! -winks and waves- See ya later when I upload the newest episode.