Brooklyn Newsie: Thank you so much for your encouraging compliments! We're nearly certain that Willy Wonka has never owned an antique shop in the underworld, but the Oompa-Loompas may feel differently...

Rose bud: Woo! Awesome job deciphering the true identity of Gester M. Norn/Storm N. Green! We appreciate your devotion to our cult - ahem, stories - so much, your comments at the end of RMS Tiny really kept us going, so just in case we didn't already thank you for that, thank you! I doubt you'd be murderered for enjoying the train ride, unless there's some overworked ticketseller out there with a vendetta against all who board this train (I assure you, if there was, he would at this moment be in custody, in cell 42 of a high-security chocolate factory in Tibet, muttering and grumbling about his smelly sock monkey cellmate and the state of the hard taffy they had for supper...).

Leafpool: So glad you're enjoying the story! Your swordsmanship (and yours too, Rose bud) is formidable, might we suggest Roderigo the ghost penguin as a suitable dueling partner? He personally trained the penguin of Monte Cristo, or at least, that what we interpret his ghostly moanings to mean.

Chinchilla: Hush now, sister. Though your powers of prophecy may be great, you must be careful what you let slip, lest the wrath of tickle-torture befall you.

*  *  *

Day 3, Part 1 – The Great Train Robbery

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler in mind to suffer the slings and arrows of an outrageous train robbery

or to take up arms against them, and in so doing be tied up,

and left there with no supper.

To murder, perchance to steal.

Aye, there's the spice rub.

-The Ominous (nope, definitely not Shakespeare, why, who would ever insinuate such a thing?)

“Oh no!” wailed UniCat. “They're dea-” Wait a minute, let's back up a bit. The story of this day actually started the night before...

Just before midnight, the light of a full moon poured over the desert, highlighting every grain of sand in black and silver. The train rushes through the night, and all aboard – or most, at least – lie sound asleep. The last carriage rocks slightly on the tracks, the unused coupling behind it glinting in the starlight, the closed wooden door that would open onto nothing if there were anyone inside to open it. Old-fashioned blinds block the view through the dark windows, a view that would show stacks and shelves of books, if it were not blocked.

Rushing onwards, we pass more carriages, their bright colours turned monochrome in the moonlight, their ornamentations seeming more menacing, like twisted gargoyles or menacing moebius spirals of some oncoming doom. Some had deep purple and red curtains on the windows, others had blue and black, a few had no curtains at all, and one carriage has a huge door in the side and a step ready to be let down at the next stop, whenever that may be. At the thirteenth carriage from the back, we stop for a moment. This one will be important in the future. It has no windows.

Let us continue: the carriages we pass now are metallic and industrial, with windows all in regimented order. On our trip to the front of the train, we pass the sleeping forms of (among others) a Viscount who loved the opera, a Duchess with a sharp chin, a man in a worn dressing gown, a woman with a stolen book about gravedigging, and a petite French – no sorry, Belgian – man with a moustache.

And now we reach the engine, smokestacks billowing smoke, and we are just in time.

A soot-covered man glanced ahead and then yelled, “Look out! There's something on the tracks!”

The engineer looked up. They both stared. “It's not moving out of the way!”

“Stop the train!”

SCREEEEEEEEE

A little old lady stood on the tracks, hand outstretched. The train barrelled towards her.

SCREEEEEEEEECHCHCH-CH-CH-CH...CH...CH.....CH...

The train stopped a second before running her over. Unfazed, she smiled vaguely and patted the steaming metal of the cowguard.

The engineer leapt down. “Are you all right ma'am? What are you doing all the way out here?”

“The name's Beatrice – Beetroot Beatrice – and I'm fine, thanks for asking dear.” She pulled out a gun. “Now stand and deliver!”

The engineer frowned. “Now, now, granny, you don't want to be holding a dangerous firearm like that, now do you?”

The little old lady grinned, her bright eyes suddenly like those things, you know...ah! Gimlets. Eyes like gimlets. Anyways, she grinned and said, “I don't see what fire alarms have to do with anything, but me and my friends would like it very much if you would cooperate. This is a holdup!”

The engineer looked around at the desert. It was empty. “Um, excuse me ma'am, I don't mean to question your mental well being, but there's no one else here.”

The soot-covered man (who was there to shovel coal) poked his head out from the engine. “I'm here!” The engineer glared at him.

The little old lady frowned, but the gun didn't waver. “Go questing for metal bearings? No thank you! I can tell you're stalling, you know, it's very obvious.” She looked to her right, and then her left. “Come along girls, it's time to get this show on the road!”

Pouf! Pouf!

On either side of Beatrice, two more little old ladies popped up from the sand. Both wore pith helmets, and one had a duck sitting on top of her helmet. The other one was knitting a ski mask.

The soot-covered man poked his head out again. “Is that supposed to be intimidating?”

VVVVVVRRRRMMM!

He looked up. “Okay, that's intimidating.”

A helicopter painted to look like a bird of prey descended towards them. Hanging beneath it was a revving motorcycle, and on the motorcycle sat a fourth little old lady. She wore a black leather biker jacket with skulls and crossbones patches, and perched on her nose was a pair of bifocal aviator sunglasses. A few feet above the ground, she unclipped the rope hanging from the helicopter. The motorcycle landed in a spray of sand, and then it flew forwards toward the engine. Beatrice and her two accomplices jumped on, and the engineer dove out of the way as the motorcycle skidded in a circle and then rode the cowguard up onto the top of the train.

The engineer sighed as the motorcycle's revving died away. The soot-covered man coughed. “Well, that was intense.”

The engineer glared at him. “Don't ever speak of this again.” With that, he climbed back into the engine cab, never to be mentioned again in this story (although the soot covered man will later become a world-renowned writer, but that's a story for him to write about, not me). The train began to move again, slowly at first and then faster and faster until the desert sped by as if the incident had never happened.

Meanwhile, the four old ladies rode back along the train. The wind blew their grey curls dramatically, and they whooped as the motorcycle jumped across the gaps. Then the roof buckled beneath them and they fell into the carriage below. This fazed them not a speck, and they continued onwards, blasting through doors and waking up guests as they went.

VVVVVVRRRRRM!

“What's going on?!”

“My towel! I've had that towel since my home was bulldozered!”

“Aaaah!”

“Aaaaieeeeh!” (That, of course, is traditional Klingon for “Aaaaieeeeeeeeh!”)

The moustached Belgian man awoke with a start, and yelled at the ladies' retreating backs, “This is murder most foul!”

“No it's not, it's merely entering and lots of breaking!” yelled the man in the dressing gown who had lost his towel.

“What he means is, the moral of that is one can get away with anything if you're in the desert.” cut in the Duchess.

The girl with the book continued reading, and the Viscount didn't wake up, only turned over and sang softly in his sleep, “I did not send that leeeetter!”

The little old ladies roared on, on and on down the train.

Until they suddenly hit a solid wall. The motorcyle exploded into a million pieces, and the little old ladies had a suspenseful slo-mo action scene in which they dove out of the way of the shrapnel.

END OF DAY 3, PART 1

*  *  *

NOTE: Sorry for the shortness of this part, this day was a bit longer so we split it into 3 parts instead of 2, but the best place to split it first was here...

Ah, oops! We kind of went into hibernation to survive final projects and exams for school, so sorry about that. And we actually had this part written, all we had to do was format it... Well, here it is now, and thanks so much for being patient with us!

To Vyolette: Thank you!

To Leafpool: Oh wow, that's a lot of pages to print (we're humbled by your dedication!), thanks so much for reading it! I hope we didn't make you feel like you had to read it to understand this one though, did we? Although we've brought back a bunch of characters and random stuff we liked, we don't want enjoying this adventure to be dependent on knowing the first one! (Although we do like referencing it) As for Scotty, well, he's already had a reference in this story so far, but to do more we'd have to reintroduce him in a way that makes sense with this story. You never know though, there's always a possibility he'll return, whether for a cameo or more...

To St. Owl: Good spotting! You're right that they're all references, perhaps others will know the other characters.

And now, what you've all been waiting for!

DAY 3, PART 2 – Murder On The Disorienting Express

Six carriages down, the noise of the explosion awoke The Ominous. He lay there for a moment, and then an ominous feeling swept over him, as if four old ladies were using laser cutters to break through to his carriages. He leapt up, pulled off his sunglasses, and pulled on a hoodie in a slightly darker shade of black. Then he rushed out of the V.I.P. sleeper carriage, which held his room as well as the six extra guest ones taken over by the Larrys, Mr. Gold, and Miss Pierce. He ran through the Ballroom and the CBers' sleeper carriage.

Quill was awoken by the sound of The Ominous' running footsteps. She jumped up, struck by a sudden feeling that a shadowy figure had just rushed past her door. Curious, she caught a glimpse of the retreating back of The Ominous, just before he slipped into the accordion hallway to the Arboretum. She hesitated for a moment, deliberating, and then ran after him. This was suspicious, and therefore probably important. She needed to find out what was going on.

She followed the shadow through the Arboretum and Dining carriages, and into a new carriage. This one was very dark, lit only by the occasional shafts of moonlight from tiny circular skylights in the ceiling.

Quill squinted, and peered through the gloom. Shadows seemed to shift and move in the darkness, and things rattled as the carriage shook along the tracks. A chill ran down her back, and she suddenly realized how un-genre-savvy she'd been. No one ever walks alone into a dark room, following a suspicious person, without telling anyone where they are, and walks out alive... Quill held her breath. She'd make a mistake, a horrible mistake, but there must be a smart way to survive this. Light – she needed light. There must be a lightswitch somewhere in this carriage.

At the far end of the carriage, The Ominous pulled out a key and locked the door. On the other side, across a bare coupling, the hiss of four laser cutters grew louder, and sparks flew into the dark night as the little old ladies continued cutting through the carriage wall. The Ominous smiled grimly. His doors would withstand anything, as long as they were locked.

Quill felt along the wall for a lightswitch. Nothing. She walked further from the door, her hand on the wall. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness a little, and she could see now that there were shelves all around her, and glass museum cases, and cabinets with ornate, tiny drawers. Behind her, something creaked. She spun around, but saw nothing. The carriage shook again on the tracks, and now Quill knew what made the rattling, tinkling sound – one shelf beside her held many tiny glass bottles, all containing different colours of liquid.

The shadows moved again, and a quiet click accompanied another shaking of the carriage. Quill stood still for a long time, but nothing happened, so she turned back to the wall. She saw a lightswitch now, and with a sigh of relief she flicked it. The lights turned on.

Now, as she turned around in wonder, she could see the contents of the carriage properly. It had a low white ceiling, worn wooden floorboards, very heavy-looking tapestries on the wall she could see, and a maze-like multitude of stuffed display cases, overflowing intricately carved wardrobes, and cramped storage cabinets, so much that she couldn't see the other side of the carriage. Quill's eyes fell on a small glass case. She stepped closer. Inside lay a thick sheaf of worn papers, covered in tiny writing. The top paper had a title: “The Accounts of All Onboard”. Quill leaned closer, but she couldn't make out the writing. The glass case had a latch, but no lock, so she opened it and picked up the papers. Just as she began to read, a voice behind her said, “Do you remember?”

Quill spun around. “What?”

“You must remember. It's right in front of you.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. What am I supposed to be remembering?”

“Don't pretend you don't know! You must have noticed!”

“What?”

The other person stepped forward. Quill stepped back. The carriage shook and the cabinets rattled. Suddenly Quill felt something coldly metallic on her neck.

“I'm going to ask one more time. Do you remem-” But before any more questions could be asked, the carriage shook on the rails, and then gave dizzying jerk.

A loud thud. A scream. Another scream. A bang.

Somewhere in that carriage of curiosities, a grandfather clock tolled midnight.

*  *  *

Perhaps we should explain a bit more before we go on. There were many sleepless people that night. One of them was Pepper, who had, much earlier, gone exploring. The currently foremost carriage of the Disorienting Express was full of interesting things, so she spent much more time there than she had meant to. Her eyes had long been adjusted to the darkness when she heard the door to the carriage open and close several times. Pepper grinned, and slipped inside a cabinet to wait for the perfect time to jump out and surprise whoever it was.

She waited. Footsteps came closer. She opened the cabinet door a crack, and peered out. Suddenly the carriage light flicked on, and she blinked in the brightness. As her eyes adjusted, she got ready to jump out, but then...someone else appeared. Something was off about this, something was wrong...

As Pepper listened to the strange conversation, she pulled out a piece of chalk from her pocket just in case. She had learned a lot of good note-taking skills from Notes (but, fortunately, she was better at eavesdropping without correcting the grammar of eavesdroppees). The carriage shook, rocking on the rails, and then jerked dizzyingly. Pepper wondered for a moment if that had been the carriages switching order, but then she saw –

NO. That didn't, that couldn't, that hadn't happened, had it? She screamed. As she screamed, she scribbled something on the inside of the cabinet, but before she could finish...

*  *  *

The screams were somehow magnified by the shape of the carriages, and everyone aboard awoke. The CBers jumped out of their beds and ran towards the sound.

As everyone rushed towards the terrible sound, passing through carriages in the wrong order and carriages that they had never seen before, the CBers hurried past Mr. Gold and Miss Pierce, soon overtaking the Larrys just outside the carriage door, and then burst through the door to see -

Row upon row of cabinets and displays cases, displaying all manner of trophies, trinkets, knick-knacks, and bric-a-brac, not to mention several obscure literary documents to rare for the library to hold. And there, in plain veiw between the wall and an empty glass display cabinet, lay the motionless form of Quill, beneath a huge, thick tapestry. Beside her, laying half out of a large cabinet, was Pepper.

“Oh no!” wailed UniCat. “They're dead!”

END OF DAY 3, PART 2

To Chinchilla: Monster! What monster? Where? *hides under bed*

To Leafpool: Thank you so much! We can understand how patience would be hard with our slow posting schedule, but we're glad you like it and are still reading and commenting!

DAY 3, PART 3 – Clue

Luc screamed, and then fainted. Orangelemon stood stock-still in shock. Chinchilla and Notes burst into uncharacteristic tears.

News Larry held up his camera and flashed photos of the tapestry and the cabinet. Host Larry grabbed the camera from him, saying, “What are you doing? That's disrespectful!”

News Larry protested, “No it's not! It's evidence! Are you trying to cover something up? I want the right person to be caught, you know!”

Weather Larry trembled violently, and Larry Smith fainted dead away, landing on the floor with a THUD!

Crypto coughed. “Did the deceased by any chance leave a cheque?”

Brookeira glared at him, and then turned back to the scene at hand. “Calm down, everyone, we don't even know that they're dead – they could just be unconscious.”

Leeli and Leafpool tried to pull the tapestry off Quill, but it wouldn't budge.

Vyolette said sadly, “Quill was crushed by a 40-ton tapestry, I don't think anyone could survive that...”

Suddenly, a faint light filled the room, and Quill and Pepper disappeared.

“What was that?” asked xp.

“No-Gore Teleporters. The RMS Tiny used them, but we never even saw people die before they were teleported. I wonder why it was so slow this time...” Danie said.

Somebody stared at where Pepper had been lying. “There's a bullet hole through this wood. And...”

Danie frowned, adding a raised eyebrow to the mix. “All signs suggest they were murdered. Watson, come here so I can protect you until we find a good broom cupboard to keep you safe in!”

Brooklyn Newsie stared around the room. “This is horrible! Why would anyone do this? We need to find out why, so it doesn't happen again. Is there anything unusual about this room?"

“Other than the fact that it's an unusual room among all the other unusual rooms on this train, you mean?” said Tux.

“Well, there are crumbs next to the tapestry.” said Shoshannah.

elementgirl looked at a glass display case beside her. “This case is open, and empty. Perhaps the murderer stole whatever was in there!”

St. Owl crouched down to look at the case. “There's a little plaque in there, saying it's 'The Ledger of the Disorienting Express'.”

"That's strangely convenient..." said Leafpool.

Just then, Mr. Gold and Miss Pierce entered.

Clutching a shotgun, Mr. Gold surveyed the room. “What are you lot standing around here for? Don't tell me my brother's held another secret disco dance party without me!”

“Quill and Pepper are dead!” whispered Kitten.

Mr. Gold looked at Miss Pierce, and she nodded slightly. She looked around the room, assessing the scene. “In this eventuality, the only thing to be done is catch the murderer as quickly as possible.” She paused.

Leeli raised an eyebrow. “...And?”

“There are only two ways into and out of this room. Did any one of you see someone coming out of this door as you entered? No? Then, as it is doubtful that the murderer would stay in the same room where the murder was committed, and unless they possess some way of getting out through the roof, the murderer must be on the other side of that door.” Miss Pierce pointed towards the front of the carriage, and the CBers all rushed towards the door, with Mr. Gold right behind them.

“It's locked!” yelled Leafpool.

“Out of the way!” Kid took a running leap, about to land feet-first on the door, when suddenly there came the ka-chik of a key turning in the lock, and the door opened to reveal – Kid flew into The Ominous, knocking the breath out of him. They both fell to the floor, to reveal Hans standing nervously in a patch of shadow a little ways behind The Ominous.

“What's going on? The weight differential is all off!” Hans wrung his hands together with a slight sound of scraping metal, and a tiny puff of dust.

The Ominous coughed, and breathlessly said, “I came as fast as I could! The carriage switch at midnight threw me off!”

Mr. Gold smiled. “How is it, brother, that there seems to always be murder on your little trips?”

“If you'd read my letters instead of those ridiculous newspapers, you'd know that no one was in any actual danger the last time!” The Ominous turned to the Cbers and continued, “I do hope the No-Gore Teleporters kicked in, this is most distressing...”

Danie shook her head. “They did, but they were slow. That doesn't make any sense.”

The Ominous sighed. “I'm very sorry you had to see that. Hans, why didn't they work?”

“I'm sorry, the entire engine's still in no fit state to do anything. It's playing Mozart's Fifth out of key.”

The Ominous frowned. “Oh dear. I suppose we're lucky it isn't playing any fandom theme songs...” He turned back to Mr. Gold. “And as to your comment, dearbrother, who had me arrested on Christmas Day for crimes that youcommitted?”

Mr. Gold raised his hands defensively. “It was hardly an arresting development! You remember, of course, that Mother had Father arrested on the same day.”

"That's different, he'd just botched his 15th attempt at collapsing the world's governments!"

Mr. Gold scoffed.“And you haven't made plans for world domination, dear brother?”

Miss Pierce coughed politely.

“That's beside the point. They were merely hypothetical, after all,” The Ominous snapped.

Miss Pierce coughed again, less politely.

Mr. Gold sighed, and turned to Miss Pierce. “Yes, Miss Pierce? You had a question?”

Miss Pierce turned to the Ominous. “The ledger that the CBers noticed was stolen. Would I be correct in assuming that it accounts for every single item on board?”

The Ominous nodded. “Yes, and every single event, too. That murderer was smart, for if we could get ahold of that book, we'd know both who the murderer was and why they committed it.”

“A pity we don't have it.” said Miss Pierce quietly.

Mr. Gold reached to light another cigarette. “Indeed.”

The Ominous frowned at him. “Don't smoke indoors! You know you could start a fire like that.”

Mr. Gold huffed, and put away his cigarette.

There was a moment of awkward silence, in which everyone suddenly became aware of a quiet whirring noise. The CBers turned to look in the middle of the carriage. There, hanging from a neatly laser-cut hole in the carriage roof, was a little old lady all in black spy gear, which a leather jacket overtop. She smiled at everyone as she landed, and retracted the thin wire on her belt. “Hello dearies, you finally noticed me! I've been waiting here for so long, I almost gave myself away when my dentures nearly fell out! Now, be good and empty out your pockets.”

The CBers were about to protest, but they suddenly realized they were surrounded. A little old lady with a duck on her head pointed a gun in each hand at the CBers. The duck narrowed its eyes menacingly, and the old lady grinned. “Don't move! We're MURDEROUS!”

“WHAT?” yelled Kitten.

Beatrice pointed guns at the Larrys and Miss Pierce. “Sssh! Jemima dear, what are you talking about Cerberus for? You know he ran away months ago – unlike you lot, standing stock still, waiting patiently for us to rob you. You're so considerate of my aching back, dearies, thank you so much.”

“You're pointing a gun at us!” said Tux.

“Water under the bridge, dearies, water under the bridge.” said Margaret, the fourth and final little old lady, who had her knitting needles in a holster while her pistols were trained on The Ominous and Mr. Gold.

“Right!” said the one in spy gear, “We can't stand here all day! Tie up the CBers, quickly! Since they won't give up the contents of their coat pockets, we shall raid the rest of the train!”

“Allow me, Mary. It would be my pleasure to tie up such well-behaved CBers as these. My years of knitting experience will come in handy!” Margaret pulled out a ball of thick yak-wool yarn, died in many colours, and proceeded to tie the CBers to one of the sturdier cabinets.

Mr. Gold sighed. “Ah, nostalgia. This is just like that time in Berlin!”

“That's enough of that now!” said Mary, “You will show us where your valuables are kept, so we don't waste any time!”

The Ominous glared at them. “I will not! You will leave this train, now. Need I tell you what happened to the last person who crossed me – why, you knitted the consequences yourselves!”

Beatrice chuckled ominously. “Have you written to your mother recently, Ommy?”

The Ominous's eye twitched. He turned desperately to Mr. Gold, who merely shrugged. Defeated, the Ominous turned and allowed the little old ladies to escort everyone but the CBers into the next carriage, to look for valuables.

The CBers sat for a moment in shocked silence.

“Ok, what in the world is going on?” asked Luc. “I mean, aside from...” He sniffed, and a tear slid down his cheek.

“I don’t know. Do you think those ladies could have killed Quill and Pepper? Who are we supposed to suspect?” Hailey said.

SopranoTwo whispered, “I suppose we have to suspect everyone...”

T.S. coughed, and then said, “You know, someone famous once said, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I, however, do not like to eliminate the impossible.”

“So... we can't eliminate anything?” Brooklyn Newsie raised her eyebrows. “That’s really not helpful.”

“Au contraire! I think we can eliminate the possibility that the murderer was a cat.” Evil Devin grinned.

“That's the least useful detecting advice I've ever heard!” said elementgirl.

Vyolette sighed. “Well, do you have anything better to suggest?”

“Murder the Ominous!”

“CRYPTO!”

“Well, people normally look for clues. Has anyone found anything that might give us a clue to the identity of the murderer?” St. Owl said.

Somebody coughed. “Ah, er, before I was interrupted - which, by the way, was about 60 paragraphs ago - I was going to mention that I think... I think I found Pepper's last words.”

“How can you find someone's last words? Did you time travel? Was there a recording device hidden in the room? Did Sherlock Holmes leap down from the ceiling?” xp paused to take a breath.

Somebody sighed. “Don't be ridiculous. They were written down.” She paused. “Before Pepper was teleported, she was partly inside a cabinet. Inside the door of the cabinet, there's a string of numbers written in chalk.”

“Which cabinet? Where?” Shoshannah looked around wildly.

Somebody looked around. “I think it's the one we're tied to, actually. Who's sitting beside the door?”

“I am!” said Rose bud. She tugged at the ropes around her hands, and everyone shifted around until there was enough slack for her to turn and pull open the door a crack. Rose bud peered in. “I think I can see it! There's a smudge at the start, but...” She read out the string of numbers:

[smudged out] 5-18-1-23-5-2 7-14-9-22-9-5-3-5-4 5-2 14-1-3 19-5-3-14-1-18-1-5-16-16-1

Chinchilla sighed. “What the heck! Seriously, Pepper couldn't have made it any more complicated?”

Notes said, “I think Pepper is laughing at us from beyond the grave.”

Just then, the CBers heard maniacal laughter from the next carriage.

END OF DAY 3