Here's my late, late Christmas poem that I started on Christmas, but never really got my act together and or finished it in time for even the year's end. *sighs* Oh well. I'm lame.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Baccano! or anything that has to do with it.
CLAIMER: I've also got this sucker up on theotaku (dot) com.
NOTE: Ehhh... *waves hand nonchalantly* I know I'm not accurate; sue me.
The Spirit Called Rail Tracer
Twas the night 'fore we crashed and all through the train
Not a creature was stirring, least those not insane
The gun holsters were worn with such great care,
In hopes that Rail Tracer would get out of there;
The children were hidden in closets and cars,
While adults cowered by the train's dine-in bar,
And with Nice rolling her eyes and Jacuzzi a-crying,
We wandered the train (who's heard of a pussyfoot flying?) —
When out in the hall we heard such a loud din,
I rushed to the scene to see who, or what, had just been.
I thought it no trouble and was a bit nosy,
We flung open the door; the scene was not cozy.
The conductors were dead, it was truly horrific,
The way they were killed, I'll stay non-specific;
When, what happens to catch our sore eyes,
But a shadowy figure, of all places outside,
With his head so low, he looked like a foot-racer,
But oh no, oh no, it had to be Rail Tracer.
Quicker than quick, his pursuers all came,
And he cackled, and hollered, and he sang like a dame:
"Keep trying you morons! Is that all you got?!,
"I've seen grandmas with more fight than you lot!
"Thrown over the side! Tossed under the wheels!
"You idiot dreamers! What a bunch of heels!"
As whisps of fluff are blown by the wind,
The attackers suffered as their numbers thinned;
So across the top of the train they did fought,
With a note on their voice, or so we all thought:
And then we panicked, as we heard on the roof
The smashing and bashing; that was our proof.
At that moment we knew we were over even my head,
The ghoul's very sight filled us all with dread:
His clothes, they were stained, from his hat to his foot,
We could all see quite clearly blood, ashes and soot;
A twist of malice sat there on his lips,
Gleeful and merry through all those backflips:
His eyes — how they shone! They were brighter than stars,
His face, flecked in blood, we could tell from afar;
Happy and merry, sickeningly gay,
I wondered if we would ever see a new day;
He fought this one man whom he couldn't quite beat,
Rail Tracer is not a being known for a defeat.
He was just as blood-splashed and just as joyous,
The situation quickly became quite hideous:
They fought and they spat and they tussled about,
While they wanted to kill, the rest of us wanted out;
Those two were not human with the way they fought
Neither looked worried about getting caught
They taunted and jeered and back-talked it seemed
Neither were concerned that they might get beamed
By the trees or the rocks or even a tunnel quite dark
They still scrapped up there, 'bout as happy as larks.
Throughout all our lives, we'd not seen men this strange
And later in life, we'd see quite a range
Yet I do believe that the best part of it all
Was when Nice wanted to get closer, causing Jacuzzi to fall