A gleaming black bullet shot across the plains, belching thick black clouds of smoke into the otherwise still midsummer air. Rattling train cars screamed after one another in a raging, half-endless progression, tearing across the calm expanse of the Inner Tamewylds and sending local wildlife scurrying for their burrows as it went. This particular train – just departed from the shining city of Dianophon and en route to parts unknown – was composed of dozens upon dozens of massive freight cars, each as wide as the city’s largest gates.

In the dim confines of one of these cars, a wooden crate began to shudder and thump, top panel bulging slightly as something within worked at forcing its way out. The panel cracked and finally popped loose, sliding to the floor as a pair of heads peeked furtively over the crate’s lip, eyes darting around the dark cabin for a moment before the individuals within – a squat dwarven woman in a rounded metal helmet and a smallish human man wearing a dark hood – hoisted themselves up and out of the crate. As the pair collected themselves, two more containers began a similar process; from one arose a long, pale man in black robes, his shaved skull shining dully with serpent-motif tattoos. He acknowledged the others with a glance, unfolding himself out onto the shuddering deck before turning to look at the third box, whose occupant had been unfortunate enough to find themselves stacked underneath several other crates. 

The three stowaways traded uncertain glances as the final box emitted thumps and muffled sounds of frustration. After a few moments, the shorter human sighed and stepped forward, producing a pouch of small tools from his belt which he used to lever loose one of the crate’s side panels. 

“This side, boss.” He said, knocking lightly on the loosened frame. 

The side of the crate exploded outward in a spray of loose hay and flame, a bright red emberling woman tumbling out with a sound like a kitchenful of pots and pans hitting the ground. She leapt to her feet an instant later, impressively quickly for someone strapped head to toe in wrought-iron plate armor, and struck a dramatic pose.

“GwaHA!” She shouted, the surface of her armor still visibly smoking, “The great and terrible Dahlia Scratch has arrived on the scene at last, with the forces of justice none the wiser! At last, our malignant machinations are set into motioaaaach.” Dahlia pulled a stricken expression and bent at the waist, reaching into her mouth with a gauntlet-clad hand and extracting a few soggy straws of hay from her throat. “Ach. Phtheh.”

“Oh, oh,” the dwarf piped up, scurrying over to begin picking stray bits of smoldering hay from the gaps in Dahlia’s armor. “Let me get that for you, boss.”

“Thank you, Adley, that’s lovely of you. Now, what was I saying.” She blinked. “Forgot. Probably wasn’t important. 

“Ugh,” Dahlia continued, casting a discontented look around the cabin, “this is hardly an appropriate beginning to the first great heist of the truly awful Dahlia Scratch’s reign of terror.” She pouted at the tall human. “I told you we should have rode in on a hell-dirigible, Cylde.” 

Cylde’s shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “As I said before, boss, landing a balloon-”

“Dirigible.” Dahlia interrupted, holding up a finger. 

“-a dirigible,” Cylde went on, rolling his eyes, “on a moving train would be a difficult proposition even if it weren’t for the fact none of us knows how to pilot one.”

“I’m afraid of heights!” Adley said cheerfully. 

“Yeah, alright, alright.” Dahlia conceded, hanging her head. “All the same, I would like my dissatisfaction with this…infiltration noted.”

“Duly.” Cylde grumbled. 

“Boyd!” Dahlia said, spinning toward the smaller human with a suddenness that seemed to startle him, “situation report!”

“Ah, um, well,” Boyd stammered, “judging by the markings above the door here, we should only be a few cars away from the rear. Given that we, er, probably need to search the whole train, I think we should…” His eyes darted between Dahlia’s expectant gaze and Cylde’s scowl, “…uh, maybe head to the back, then work our way up again?”

Dahlia clapped a hand on Boyd’s shoulder, grinning. “Good man.” She blinked, face slackening for an instant. “Uh, I mean, bad. Bad and evil. Alright, everybody!” Dahlia turned to the others, lifting a finger into the air with a twirl of the wrist. “You heard the logistics expert, it’s down and up again. Hop to!”

Boyd’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m the logistics expert?”

But Dahlia was already moving, striding purposefully toward the far side of the cabin and forcing the Cruel Crew to either scuttle along after her or be left behind. Placing a hand on the door, she turned toward her associates, eyes sparkling avidly.

“This is it, lady and gentlemen. The final barrier between us and the future. Once we cross this threshold, you leave behind your old lives of mediocrity and anonymity and take the first steps toward the icons of pain and terror you were always destined to be.” Dahlia’s yellow eyes almost glowed, her shark-like grin gleaming in the low light. “Are you with me?”

Adley’s head jerked up and down, fists clenched in the air before her – Cylde rolled his eyes to such an extent it became a motion of his entire head. 

“Then let’s get out there,” Dahlia shouted, throwing the door open, “and show the world who they’re dealing with!”

The car beyond the door was an open platform, its various bits of cargo strapped to rails lining the deck. Wind whipped across the car, buffeting the emberling and her companions from the moment she opened the portal. Standing in the middle of the platform was a humanoid figure, their entire body obscured by a costume of rubber hoses and grubby cloth rags, a tank of some sort of murky liquid fastened to their back. They looked up at the sound of the door slamming open, turning a long rubber mask to fix Dahlia with a blank, glassy stare. 

Dahlia slammed the door shut once again, beads of sweat suddenly dappling her forehead. “You said there wouldn’t be anyone else here!” She hissed, shoulders hunching as she braced her back against the door. 

“What?!” Boyd squeaked. “No I didn’t!”

“Well, I really wish you had! Who in the hells is that?”

“Seems likely they would be here for the same reason we are.” Cylde said dryly.

Adley gave a gap-toothed grin, smacking a fist into her open palm. “Pretty spooky lookin’ customer. We gonna beat ‘em up?”

“Ha!” Dahlia barked, straightening. “No need – we’ll simply intimidate them into submission. Watch and learn.”

The Cruel Crew’s leader threw the door open, stepping out onto the deck and drawing herself to her full height (not especially impressive, once you subtracted the foot and a half of horns curving up from her forehead). Dahlia braced her fists against her hips, thrusting out her chest as the wind caused the flat-headed point of her tail to whip dramatically through the air behind her. 

“GWAHAHAHARR!” She roared, “You there, creepy…gas-mask person! You stand now in the presence of the great and terrible Dahlia Scratch and the Cruel Crew, purveyors of pain! Delegates of depravity! Tremble, but rejoice, as my compatriots and I have decided, in a rare display of mercy, to allow you to stand aside andWHOAH!”

Dahlia ducked back, raising her shield as a spray of foul-smelling liquid erupted from an odd nozzled device cradled in the stranger’s hands. The smell of oxidization suddenly stung her nostrils, a hissing sound filling the air – Cylde yelped and swatted at his leg behind her, a thin wisp of smoke curling from where a stray drop of the liquid had made contact with his trousers. Dahlia twisted her forearm, peering curiously at the front of her shield; every trace of grime and rust had been scoured from the surface, bubbling globules of murky liquid dripping away to leave shining metal in their wake. Up ahead, the masked stranger had raised an arm to point at the Crew and was shouting something muffled and indecipherable across the distance. 

“Okay, well,” Dahlia said, looking over her shoulder, “plan B it is.”

With a whoop of excitement Adley surged forward, sprinting across the platform as fast as her stout legs could carry her. The acid-spraying stranger jerked back with surprise, trying to bring their weapon up for another volley as the dwarf rapidly closed the distance. At the last second, Adley juked to one side, ducking past the assailant and out of their line of sight – startled, the stranger spun to track her. 

A mighty crack rang out as Dahlia’s shield sailed through the air to bounce off the attacker’s temple, rocking their masked head to one side and nearly knocking them from their feet. The stranger let out a muffled cry of pain, dropping to one knee and instinctively grabbing at their head with a free hand. 

“Yeah!” Dahlia shouted, pumping a fist exuberantly in the air. “Got ‘em!”

Now it was Boyd’s turn to run past Dahlia – with their opponent on the back foot, he had evidently worked up the courage to join the fray. A pair of daggers slid into Boyd’s hands as he moved. The masked stranger looked up, their attention drawn to the new threat as they struggled to bring their weapon to bear. 

This was, of course, before Adley’s meaty fist connected with the back of their head, rocking their skull forward and sending them staggering directly into Boyd’s attack. He swung, one of his small blades clipping the hose connecting the acid-sprayer to the tank mounted on the stranger’s back as they crumpled to the deck. 

Boyd and Adley hopped back to avoid the sudden spill of ichor that splattered against the floor – the stranger, barely conscious after the bell-ringing they had just received, was not quite as quick. They slumped forward into a rapidly growing pool of their own acid, then began to thrash and squeal a moment later as caustic smoke rose from their body. A smell like rotten, burning meat sprang into the air as the mysterious attacker gurgled their last breaths, acid soaking into their rags and melting the upper half of their body down to the bones in a matter of seconds. 

Despite the roaring of the tracks below, an eerie silence seemed to settle over the platform. Boyd and Adley looked back toward their associates uncertainly, both looking slightly green. For his part, Cylde seemed perfectly unaffected by what had just transpired; the tall human strolled unhurriedly out to the middle of the platform, pausing to poke at the pair of newly disembodied legs with the toe of his boot. 

“A surprising display of competence, you two.” He said, cold eyes shifting from Adley to Boyd. Cylde turned to look over his shoulder, fixing Dahlia with a thin smile. “If we can keep this pace up, we might actually make it off this train with Key in hand.”

Dahlia still stood back by the door, mouth hanging slightly open as she stared at the carnage her little crew had managed to create. After a few seconds the emberling shook herself from her stupor, striding stiffly over toward her companions. Her eyes had taken on a darting, nervous quality, dancing over seemingly everything but the corpse currently sloughing apart at their feet. 

“Okay, so, first off, uh, very nice work, you two.” Dahlia’s voice was high and reedy, her cheer slightly more forced than usual. “Really brutal stuff, no notes on the uh, the teamwork. Just one tiiiiiny thing.” She held up a hand, index finger and thumb pinched together. “Hardly matters, exquisitely minor, but if we could possibly…uh, avoid the murder going forward? For the immediate future?”

Adley blinked, eyes fishlike behind her thick spectacles. “Don’t Villains usually snuff out a lotta folks? What’s the big deal?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Dahlia said quickly, reaching out to pat the dwarf on the top of her helmet. “They do, and we will! Piles, mountains of corpses we’ll leave in our wake, scores upon scores of hapless souls sent screaming into insatiable jaws of the Hells, all in good time. But!” She raised a finger. “And this is important – it will be very difficult to spread terror and discord across the land if all of our victims end up dead before they can, you know, spread the terror. Right?”

Adley scratched at the side of her jaw, looking slightly befuddled. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Was mostly an accident, anyway.” Boyd mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to, y’know, slash him a little.” 

“Not to worry, my vicious little minions.” Dahlia said cheerfully. “Who the heck wears a whole vat of this stuff on their back, anyway? Practically begging to get…urp…” She turned away, raising a fist to her mouth and clearing her throat conspicuously. “…melted down to the bones.”

Cylde had been standing off to one side, glaring darkly in Dahlia’s direction throughout the exchange. He shook his head and turned to walk toward the next car. “Pathetic.” The tattooed man muttered under his breath as he passed. 

If Dahlia heard the comment over the din of the train, she gave no indication. “See, Cylde has the right idea – no rest for the wicked! Heh. Come on, you two, there’s villainy yet to be done!”

The leader of the Cruel Crew trotted after Cylde, leaving the others with little to do but shrug and follow after. 

Three cars stood between the Crew and the rear of the train, all enclosed and, thankfully, passable without further incident save for a bit of difficulty here and there involving the more cargo-cluttered sections and Dahlia’s bulky armor. As the four entered the penultimate cabin, the thick, stale smell of animal bedding settled over them; the walls of this car were lined with barred stalls, each containing various types of barn animals. The creatures looked up laconically as Boyd shut the door behind them.

Adley wrinkled her nose. “Eugh. Smells like home.”

“Fear not, simple livestock!” Dahlia said, striding forward and waving an outstretched arm. “For the wrath of Dahlia Scratch is not for you this day.” She stopped before a stall, leaning down to lock eyes with a cow who chewed its cud lazily as she spoke. “But treasure these last days of peace, sweet bovine. For when the sky burns red and the sun goes black, even the most base of creatures cannot hope to be spared as the very Hells themselves are visited upon the earth!”

Boyd traded a glance with Adley as they passed behind her. “That’s, uh, real scary stuff, boss.”

“Yes,” Cylde added, rolling his eyes, “I’m sure if these animals could understand the common tongue they would be simply shaking in their hooves. May we move on?”

Dahlia stuck an arm through the bars, patting the cow’s broad forehead. It did not react in any noticeable way. “Alas, poor creature. Your stalwart bravery in the face of unstoppable doom could almost rouse emotion in my cold, black heart. Nevertheless!” She spun on her heel and made for the end of the cabin with a sudden burst of speed. “Let us see what is behind…door number three!”

Again, the sound of howling wind rushed to fill the cabin as Dahlia threw open the door, and again she froze at the sight of what lay just beyond. No open-air platform waited this time, only the scant, treacherous connecting path between one car and the next. Standing but a few strides away was an enormous figure – eight feet tall, at the very least – clad in an immense carapace of blue-black plate armor, its surface carved entirely over with arcane runes. Here and there, the gaps and joints of its armor permitted strange red thorns to weave in and out of the suit – they seemed almost to squirm as Dahlia watched. Clasped in its hands, point resting on the platform, was a greatsword roughly the same height as Dahlia herself. 

No one moved for several seconds. The huge warrior made no indication of reacting to the new arrivals – though it would have been difficult to tell, covered as its face was by a scroll of finely inked parchment, hanging in the front of its helmet like a veil.

“Uh…hey there, big fella.” Dahlia said at last. “Listen, my crew and I just need to take a quick peek into that car behind you, and we’re running on a pretty tight schedule, so if it’s all the same to you I’m just gonna squeeeeze past ya real quick…”

The instant Dahlia took a step forward, one of the warrior’s hands left the pommel of its sword and swung up and out, palm flattened toward her. Whatever was inside the armor did not speak, but the message was clear. 

Behind her, Boyd swallowed nervously. “I don’t think he’s gonna let us past, boss.”

“Sure he is.” Dahlia said, reaching over to unhook the small hammer tucked into her belt. “Just needs a little convincing, is all.”

“You sure, boss?” Adley this time. “I dunno if this is gonna go as smooth as the last one…”

“You’re both such fonts of encouragement.” Dahlia’s voice carried the slightest nervous edge. “We didn’t come all this way to get scared off by the first thing standing in our way, did we?”

“Well, second thing, actually.”

Dahlia sighed. “Again, Adley, thank you. Now…everybody step back for a second. I wanna see what the big guy’s got.”

As she raised her shield and began to advance, the huge warrior rolled its shoulders and hefted its weapon, holding the blade loosely in one gauntlet. Its movement was slow and deliberate, plates of armor grinding against each other in a way that reminded Dahlia of old, rusted machinery. Without any pretense of a surprise attack it wound back, planting a foot and swiveling at the hip to aim a sweeping strike at Dahlia’s chest. She ducked away easily, the blade arcing past her with that same slow, shuddering motion. The sword’s tip drifted down to scrape against the deck at the end of its arc, etching a shallow gouge in the metal.

“Ha! All that armor ain’t gonna do you much good if you’re too heavy to fight.” Dahlia flashed a saw-toothed grin at her followers. “Remember that, everybody, it’s about balance. I don’t think the big man here is going to be such a problem after all.”

Just as slowly as before, the faceless giant drew its sword back for a second swing. It took another step forward, elbows locking into place with the audible crunch of metal on metal – which was when the runes carved into its arms began to well with an eerie purplish glow, the thorns winding out from its wrists wriggling in earnest now as they tightened around the pommel. The next attack came like a thunderclap.

“Whoah!” Dahlia yelped, jumping backwards instinctively through the door as the massive blade surged toward her, faster than anything of that size should have been able to move. An ear-splitting screech of rending metal rang out, the sword burying itself deeply into the wall of the train car. Dahlia landed on her rump inside the cabin, nearly bowling Boyd over as she fell.

“What in the Hells was that?!” Cylde shouted, backpedaling away as the warrior began to slowly yank on the sword, attempting to pull it free from where it had embedded itself.

“I… I don’t know.” Dahlia scrambled to her feet, breathing heavily. “Something magicky. Everybody stay back. Far back. Let me deal with this.”

Adley took a hesitant step forward. “Boss, hold on, we gotta-“

“I said move! ” Dahlia shouted. Whatever Adley saw in her face made the dwarf turn pale and take a step back. “Or would you deny the orders of your overlord?!”

“N-no boss, sorry boss!” Adley turned to jog toward the far end of the cabin, reaching out to drag Boyd along with her. Even Cylde seemed taken aback by the sudden change in the emberling’s demeanor.

Dahlia gritted her teeth and tightened the grip on her hammer. Before the warrior could pull its weapon free she leaped forward, swinging with all of her might to strike a blow at the side of the giant’s head.

Her hammer bounced away with a dull ringing sound, like the striking of an ancient bell. Barely a dent had been left in the thing’s helmet. It turned its head to regard her, and despite the fact that the thing continued to make no sound whatsoever – did not, in fact, react in any way other than to rotate its head – Dahlia was struck with the distinct impression it was laughing at her. 

“Hoo boy.” Dahlia said, stepping back as her opponent finally wrenched its sword from the wall and resumed its advance. “Okay. Any chance you want to take another shot at talking this out?”

By way of answer, the giant ducked through the door it had just bisected, drove a heel into the deck and sent another blurring sweep at Dahlia’s shoulder. She pivoted, only managing to dodge the brunt of the attack by virtue of its immense wind-up; even still the edge of the blade clipped her shield, sending the emberling sprawling against the gate of a nearby stall. The horse stabled within screamed in startled protest. 

“Yeah no, that’s my bad.” Dahlia wheezed, peeling herself away from the gate as the warrior lifted its sword toward the ceiling in a two-handed grip, runes coming alight in a complicated sequence that seemed to crawl along the sides of its barrel chest up and along its arms. Dahlia made a desperate half-leap, half-crawl past the warrior’s right ankle, rolling into an awkward heap behind it as the sword came down in a vertical arc, cleaving into the floor as if it were soft cheese. Popping to her feet once again, the emberling lashed out with a pair of quick hammer strikes as her opponent recovered – again, the thick armor left her attacks utterly without effect. 

From the far end of the car, Adley cupped her hands around her mouth. “I don’t think it’s working, boss!”

“Really?” Dahlia called back, voice tinged with weary sarcasm. “I think I’ve got him on the ropes, personally – oop!”

She dropped to the floor as the giant spun to face her, blade passing through the air in a flat sweep that would have split her at the waist an instant before. She’d been able to follow the sequence of sigils this time, at least enough to get an idea of the next attack’s direction before it came. This time Dahlia had managed to position herself in front of the door they had passed through moments before; as the warrior swung blindly, its sword rattled across one side of the frame before biting deeply into the opposite side of the door. All in all, the rear of the car was beginning to look significantly worse for wear. 

“GWA-HAAA!” Dahlia roared, springing back to her feet and delivering a rapid and ineffectual flurry of hammer-blows. Again and again she threw her full strength into each strike, sweat beading on her brow as her hammer snapped outward, searching for the slightest weakness, perhaps a thinner section of plate…

A monstrous kick caught Dahlia full in the chest, shooting her bodily through the opening to crash against the vaulted door of the final car. Her vision went black at the edges, lungs emptying with the force of the impact. It was all she could do to keep from staggering as her legs tried to crumple underneath her; she looked down to find a roughly boot-shaped dent caved into her breastplate. If not for her armor, every organ in her ribcage would have been turned to pulp. Dahlia tasted blood. 

Vision swimming, Dahlia looked up to see the silent warrior pull its weapon free once more and step out onto the platform, sections of the shredded door frame curling away like orange peel around its bulk. With the slow-motion inexorability of a nightmare it drew the blade back, ghostly lights creeping along its shoulders and forearms. The greatsword’s point leveled with Dahlia’s midsection, preparing for a final thrust.

Dahlia hunkered down and kicked off the wall at the last second, pushing herself toward the center of her opponent’s mass. The sword’s point missed her by millimeters, its edge scraping along her ribs. Just before she collided with the giant’s chest, Dahlia twisted her body to slam her hammer against a spot just above the armor’s elbow joint.

The giant warrior spasmed, sigils along its arm and shoulder flickering weakly. All across its body, multiple runes crackled with sickly energy – runes Dahlia’s hammer had blunted and mangled over the course of the fight. The grinding sound coming from within the thing’s body rose in intensity, its entire form beginning to twitch like a malfunctioning automaton – then, with a sickening crunch, the warrior’s sword arm twisted and collapsed in on itself.

Falling loose of the thorns wrapping around its hilt, the greatsword crashed to the deck, followed a moment later by the giant itself. It slumped to the platform as if dead, one arm hanging out over the grasslands rushing by below – though, truth be told, it was difficult to tell if the thing had ever been alive to begin with.

Boyd and Adley cheered, rushing forward to catch their leader by the arms before she could totter from her feet.

“That was incredible, boss!” Boyd said. “What did you even do to him?”

“Just a guess, really.” Dahlia gasped. She took a moment to collect herself, nudging the motionless hulk with her foot. “Had some kind of magic nonsense going on, never seen anything like it. Pretty fragile, if you ask me.”

“If you say so, boss.” Adley said, sidling around the fallen giant as if it might leap up and bite her. She turned to look at the door of the final car. “So… What are we going to do about that?”

The doors of each car up until this point had been simple affairs, swinging open and closed at the turn of lever – not so with this final compartment. Standing before Dahlia and her crew was something much more akin to the door of a bank vault, with a huge crank surrounded by a complicated series of dials installed in the center. Unsurprisingly, the train’s most valuable cargo was afforded significantly more security than they had encountered thus far. 

“That,” Cylde mused, “is a very large door. Any chance we had a plan for this…?”

“Don’t look at me.” Said Boyd. “I’ve only been the logistics expert for fifteen minutes. None of my tools are getting us through this.”

Dahlia threw an arm out to one side, narrowly avoiding cracking him across the nose with her elbow. “Not to worry, assorted fiends and criminals! Your fearless, terrifying and wholly unpleasant leader cannot be stopped by something so mundane as a very, very large door.” She shot a grin over her shoulder. “Take a step back, kids. It’s about to get warm.”

She stepped off to one side of the door and reached out, pressing a palm against the faintly humming metal of the final car. Dahlia bowed her head, eyes fluttering closed as she placed her free hand in the middle of her breastplate. Her lips began to move as she recited something under her breath, the sound of the words lost in the ambient clatter of the rails. The first thing the rest of the crew noticed was the hot, tangy odor of burning iron, like an empty pan left too long over the flame – then the dull orange glow spreading out from Dahlia’s fingertips, creeping out into the wall’s surface in a vaguely elliptical shape. The metal at her palm shifted red, then yellow, then nearly white, until at last the emberling’s open hand started to sink into the surface, as if she were pressing her palm into butter rather than steel. She leaned forward, shifting the weight through her shoulder as the wall slowly cratered inward – and the tipping point came all at once, liquid metal stretching and falling away to leave a glowing, irregular portal in the wall. 

Dahlia turned with a flourish, giving her subordinates a deep bow. “No fancy combination required, as you can see. After you, my malicious menagerie – mind the edge, and also the, um, pool of molten steel.”

“How’d you do that, boss?” Said Adley, poking her head through the hole for a quick look around before beginning the careful process of sidling over the red-hot metal. 

“A devil never reveals her secrets, obviously.” Dahlia beckoned to the others, ushering them into the hole before stepping through herself. “Come on, plenty of time to marvel at my terrifying power in the days to come – for now it’s time to get our hands on that Key.”

Now that they were inside it, the vault car was noticeably larger than those making up the rest of the train – the ceiling in particular seemed to have a good four or five extra feet of clearance, and almost every square inch had been put to good use. Boxes, crates and safes of every shape and size cluttered the space with just enough shoved aside here and there to make a crooked path toward the back of the car, creating a shadowy, miniature labyrinth for the Cruel Crew to pick their way through. It was just as well Dahlia had taken up the rear, as the width of her armor had her becoming wedged in place on more than one occasion. 

Eventually, the foursome managed to stumble out into a sort of clearing near the back of the cabin. Bolted into the far wall was a large metal rack, the most valuable of the train’s cargo secured in locking compartments from floor to ceiling. One of these sections hung open. Sitting in the middle of the floor was an ornate lockbox, evidently removed from said compartment and lying wide open, its contents already clutched in the hands of the small figure crouched beside it – a goblin woman, wearing a fine dress of purple silk and a matching wide-brimmed hat.

“Uhhh hey, you guys?” Adley blurted, turning toward the others as they squeezed through the final passage. “Somebody beat us here…”

“What?!” Cylde cried out, practically climbing over Boyd in his haste to see what had caught the dwarf’s attention. “What in the Hells are you blabbering about now?”

The goblin’s head snapped up at the sound, regarding the Crew with a cold, wary gaze. At a glance, the quality of her dress and conical hat marked her as nobility, rare as that was for a member of her species – as she came to her feet, tossing her voluminous waves of brown hair over one shoulder, Dahlia’s Crew got a good look at the object held under her arm. It was a segmented cube of black metal chased with gold, the faces carved into a grid of squares, each square embossed with an arcane rune. If the design was anything to go by, the grid’s rows and columns could be rotated around the central axis, like a puzzle box. When she noticed four pairs of eyes lock onto her treasure, the goblin shifted the box around her hip, angling her body to obscure it from view. 

“You’re too late.” She called out, eyes narrowing – her accent was posh, voice utterly devoid of warmth. “The Key is mine. You and all the other psychopaths rambling around out there can pack up and go home.”

Dahlia was gearing up for a long-winded rejoinder when a quick movement on her left caught her attention; Cylde had just pulled the crossbow from his back and shouldered it. “Like hell we will, creature.” He muttered, pulling the trigger. 

Dahlia’s arm shot out, shoving his weapon to the side the instant before the bolt loosed, and several things happened in very quick succession. A harsh pinggg rang out as the projectile ricocheted off into a corner somewhere, Boyd jumping back with a yelp of fear as it went; Cylde snarled a sound of wordless frustration and knocked Dahlia’s hand away, rounding on her with rage burning in his eyes; the goblin ducked away, baring her fangs and moving her free hand oddly through the air at her side. 

A large book popped into existence at her hip, seemingly springing forth from empty space. It was already opening as it appeared, the goblin’s claws flicking deftly through the pages. Seemingly finding the page she was looking for, she sneered in Cylde’s direction and disappeared. 

A moment of stunned silence passed as Dahlia and the crew gawped at the empty air where the goblin had been standing an instant before. 

“You empty-headed fool!” Cylde shouted, thin shoulders hunching as he advanced on Dahlia. “The Key was within our grasp at last, and now you’ve let that vermin make off with it! What is wrong with you?!”

Dahlia did not flinch, her expression remaining steadfastly cheerful. “Absolutely everything is wrong with me, Cylde. I’m the very avatar of malice and blasphemy.” She leaned forward, sticking out a finger to poke him once in the chest. “And what is wrong with you seems to be a distinct difficulty in following your dread overlord’s orders! I didn’t even get to introduce us, and you know how important that is to me. That’s three demerits, mister, which means only forty-seven more until an official reprimand, which is-”

Cylde threw up his hands and stalked away, growling with frustration as he jammed himself roughly back through the passage. After exchanging a glance, the other three moved to follow. 

“I think Cylde is mad at you, boss.” Adley whispered. 

“As well he should be.” Said Dahlia, brightly. “A heart full of hatred is foundational for any Villain.” 

“No, I mean…uh, nevermind. Where’d that gob lady go, anyway? She just, like…poofed.” 

Boyd spoke up from the back of the pack. “Must be a mage, that one. Didn’t know greenskins even had those.”

“Ooohhh. Hey boss, that how you got through the wall back there? You a wizard or somethin’?”

Dahlia barked a laugh. “Do I look like a wizard? No, Adley, my dear little corpse-weevil, I’m afraid the power of the great and terrible Dahlia Scratch comes from a source altogether more-”

“Will the lot of you stop flapping your gums for one moment?” Cylde hissed from somewhere up ahead. “Listen!”

And indeed, hidden by the sound of their own voices and the tracks rattling by below, there was something else – a shifting and skittering among the containers nearby, moving toward the front of the car. 

“The goblin is still in here with us! Move, quickly!”

The Cruel Crew redoubled their efforts to push through the maze of cargo, mostly only succeeding in further stumbling over one another until they were finally spat back out the other side. A flurry of panicked motion took them through Dahlia’s makeshift entrance and back into the sunlight, four heads swiveling madly for any trace of the invisible thief. 

“Up here, love.” A familiar, mocking voice called from above. 

Dahlia looked up to see their newest antagonist smirking down at her from atop the next car, absentmindedly rotating the puzzle box’s interlocking sections in her hands. 

Cylde took a threatening step forward. “You little-”

“Terribly sorry,” she interjected, “but I’m not speaking to the help.” The goblin turned her attention to Dahlia, leaving Cylde to begin turning a very interesting shade of purple. “Judging from your…general volume, would I be correct in assuming you to be the leader of this little troupe, miss?”

“That’s right.” Dahlia said, putting her fists on her hips. “You have the honor of addressing the great and terrible Dahlia Scratch, scion of the New Devils, bane of all that is good and innocent, future conqueror of the entire wretched expanse of Qorth and-”

The goblin waggled a dismissive wrist. “Yes, yes, I think I caught the important parts already. I…hold on, I’ve only just noticed the little…are those supposed to be horns, stuck to your underlings’ heads?” She put a palm to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Gods rotting, that is adorable. So you’re supposed to be, what, some sort of nun from the Hells?”

Dahlia’s face somehow managed to turn slightly redder. “I…uh, well, you didn’t let me finish…”

“That’ll be quite unnecessary, I assure you. Truth be told, I don’t really care who you are  – it’s just that you and your little trio of clowns seem so bloody pathetic that letting you go on without fair warning would be…cruel.”

“You should have let me shoot her, boss.” Cylde said through clenched teeth. 

“So. You have two options, miss Dahlia, both of which end with the Key in my possession and the lot of you dying in obscurity, so do choose carefully.” The goblin tilted her head to one side. “You can stay right here like good little boys and girls, remaining perfectly safe until this train reaches its destination, and our paths need never cross again. Or,” she rolled the box into her other hand, “you can try and chase me down, in which case I shall be using you as a distraction for the dozen or so other freaks currently on board whilst I make my escape. Needless to say, the second option stands to be significantly more detrimental to your health.”

Dahlia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not leaving here without that box.”

The goblin sighed heavily, long ears drooping as she shrugged and turned to leave. “Suit yourself.”

“Wait!” Dahlia shouted, holding out an entreating hand. “You haven’t told me your name! We can’t be proper nemeses if I don’t know who you are!”

Pausing, the goblin turned over her shoulder and gave Dahlia a somewhat flabbergasted look – then she shook her head and disappeared over the edge of the car.

“Well, you heard the lady!” Dahlia said, already breaking into a jog. “Get the lead out, minions! We won’t get that Key back standing around all day!”

“We would already have the Key if you’d let me shoot the little thief.” Said Cylde, puffing along just behind. 

“And miss out on this kinda challenge?” Dahlia grinned as she put her shoulder into the next door, bursting out into open air just in time to see their quarry scuttle out of view over the car ahead. “What are you, crazy?”

He mumbled a response Dahlia didn’t catch over the ambient racket, which was probably just as well. Cylde had only grown more curmudgeonly over time since she’d recruited him from that serpent cult – it was obvious he didn’t think much of her style of villainy. Dahlia realized vaguely that this particular train of thought was taking her somewhere she didn’t want to be, and promptly abandoned it. Not thinking about things was one of her most finely honed skills, after all. 

The Crew continued to retrace their steps, losing a few precious seconds when they were forced to pick their way carefully around the sickly, steaming pool spreading across the middle of the platform where their first encounter had taken place. The Acid Man was now little more than a pair of legs ending at the upper thighs. 

“Pretty gruesome stuff, that!” The goblin called out, perched on the edge of the next car’s roof as if she were lounging in some smoky parlor. “Your handiwork, Dahlia?”

“That’s right!” Adley shouted, noticeably out of breath. “The boss messed this one up real good, and you’re gonna…huff…get worse if you don’t give us that box!”

Dahlia dropped her palm firmly on the top of Adley’s head, shoving the dwarf’s helmet down over her eyes. “What my underling means to say is, uh, our friend here mostly did that to himself. Or herself. Sort of difficult to tell at this point.”

The goblin laughed, a sound that exuded cruel beauty in much the same way the rest of her did. “Oh love, I know. I’d be surprised if the four of you could muster the collective gumption to strangle a chicken.” She pulled her legs up under her coquettishly and stood, brushing a bit of dust from the hem of her skirt. “You’re certain we can’t call an end to this little farce? All this wind is really not doing my hair any favors.”

Dahlia’s face lit up with excitement as she thrust a clenched fist in the air. “Never! The viciously malignant Dahlia Scratch would sooner breathe her last sulfurous breath than surrender to the likes of you, miss…miss whatever-your-name-is!”

The goblin rolled her eyes, shrugged again and was gone.