Vincent sprawled on his apartment couch in boxer shorts and button-down shirt, his tie knotted like a noose around his neck. He stared at the ceiling, half dozing, half listening, and wishing he didn’t have to go to work. Weren’t you supposed to be middle aged before you hated your job this much? Here he was, fresh out of secondary school and already miserable. On the television, Judge Domino was telling a divorcing couple from one of the suburbs that they really should care more who got custody of the kids than the car, but they were yelling at each other so loudly that he doubted either heard the judge. The closing theme began to play and Vincent’s eyes shot open.
“Fuck, I’m going to miss the train,” he snapped at himself as he jumped off the couch. “Where the hell are my pants?” After a panicked search, he found them in his bedroom, under the mattress. He threw them on, laced up his shoes so fast he knotted them wrong, and shrugged his coat on. Grabbing his keys, he threw open the apartment door.
“Gah, sunlight,” Vincent winced, turning back for his sunglasses. He stepped back into the light a minute later and hurried down the stairs two at a time, jumping the railing at the last landing. He ran toward the station.
The train arrived on the platform just as he did, and Vincent reached into his pocket for a token. It was empty. He swore and looked around. The guard was arguing with someone at the far end of the station. Knowing from experience that the train never waited long, Vincent decided to chance it. He vaulted over the turnstile and sprinted toward the open door of the train.
“Hey! Kid, get back here!” the guard yelled as Vincent stepped on board. He hurried up the aisle and through the passage between cars, hoping the train would start moving before the guard saw him. It did, and Vincent sank into one of the many empty seats on the late morning commuter train.
“Thanks,” a woman’s voice offered from behind him. He turned at looked up at her over his sunglasses.
“Thanks? For?”
“Distracting him. Otherwise I might have missed the train.”
“You’re welcome, but I wasn’t trying to help. I just didn’t have a token,” Vincent explained.
“I should always be so lucky,” she said with a smile. “To repay you, a bit of advice. Don’t follow me.” Vincent started to reply, but she was already walking away.
“Women,” he muttered. “What makes her think I’d follow–” His thoughts were derailed by the echo of gunshots from the car behind him. He started to get up, but he thought about what she’d said and sat back down. Whatever was going on back there had nothing to do with him. He sank down further in his seat and hoped he wouldn’t be late for work.
There was a second flurry of gunshots that made Vincent dig his fingers into the sides of his seat. He heard the hiss of the door and another shot almost simultaneously, then a thunk and clatter as something heavy hit the ground.
A body, his instinct told him. He told it to shut up and sank further in his seat. His foot brushed up against something solid under his seat and he pulled it forward with the toe of his shoe. It was a gun. He picked it up.
“Not dead yet?” a sarcastic voice asked. “Maybe I should take my time with you. I hear you bastards did with my boss.”
There was a cough and then, “No, he gave you boys up right away.” It was the woman from before.
“You bitch,” the man yelled, and Vincent knew she would die if he didn’t do anything. He’d never met her before, but she had sort of tried to save his life. Or something. Besides, this sort of thing was always easy enough in the movies.
Before he could stop and think about how stupid this was, he leaned around his seat, spotted the man standing over her with gun drawn, and fired.
“Ow,” he grunted as the recoil snapped his arm back. The man went down, falling backwards and smacking his head against the door. Vincent blinked and stepped into the aisle.
The woman sat up, wincing. Vincent could see she was bleeding from both legs.
“Nice shot,” she said, her voice more professional than it had been. “Who do you work for?”
“Work for?” Vincent parroted.
“Don’t play dumb anymore. Just tell me where you work,” she was pulling gauze out of her jacket and applying pressure to the wounds in her legs.
“I, er,” Vincent stumbled, “I work in the shopping complex. In the seedy loan place. You know?”
“So that place is a front. I thought so. Who’s behind it, and what’s he want with me?”
“Look, miss, I think you’re confused. I just took the shitty loan job until I find something better.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “If you really are that clueless, you’ll give me back my gun.”
Vincent held it out to her. She took it and immediately aimed at him.
“Hey!” he shouted.
“You’re a very good shot for someone who isn’t in the field.”
Vincent shrugged. “Then I’m a good shot. I mean, I just pointed at him and fired.”
She looked at him like she was sizing him up, shook her head, and put the gun down while she pulled out a materia and whispered over it. The wounds on her legs pulled shut and she stood as the train began to slow.
“I have to go. This is my stop,” she told him, stepping toward the door. “You’ll want to get off the train from the very front carriage. You weren’t involved, don’t worry. I’ll be in touch.” The door slid open and she stepped off.
It took Vincent a minute to process her last sentence. “Wait, in touch? What?” The platform was empty when he looked out. After a minute, the door hissed shut again.
He nudged the body with his foot.
It was really dead. Vincent had never personally seen a dead body before, but he was still coming down off the adrenaline high and thinking that he rather liked the feeling.
“Not a habit I should get into,” he told himself quietly. He nudged the body once more for good measure, then took the woman’s advice and headed for the front cabin.
He found himself hoping that she meant it when she said she’d be in touch with him later. If it meant more exciting days like this, he would definitely look forward to that.
