The Altai Mountains – Delmand Windrow Train
A hidden location nestled in the snowy mountains, where a luxurious, private train traveled between Russia and Mongolia. This train was a moving hotel, accessible only to a select few. Inside, many high-stakes and confidential deals took place.
As Zagh stepped off the helicopter and made his way toward the train’s entrance, he mentally reviewed everything he knew about the place.
At the door stood an elderly attendant, easily over seventy, waiting patiently.
Without a hint of emotion, the attendant simply said:
“Empty it.”
Zagh blinked, confused, and replied with a chuckle:
“Huh?”
The attendant repeated with the same deadpan tone:
“Your weapons. Dump them.”
Zagh, now theatrically shocked, threw his hands up:
“You want me to give up my guns? Noooo way! I can’t do that!”
The old man glanced at a few hulking guards nearby and gave a subtle nod.
Zagh immediately raised his hands higher.
“Alright, alright! I’m emptying, I’m emptying!”
He began pulling weapons out one by one:
“One from behind the back… two from the belt… another two from… uh, lower back… one from the left pocket… and a tiny little guy from the coat lining…”
He laid them all on the ground, then smiled innocently.
“There! All done!”
The attendant, still unbothered, continued in the same stern tone:
“Sharp objects.”
Zagh flashed a mischievous grin.
“Oh come on… who even needs a knife these days?”
The attendant gave another subtle nod to the muscular guards nearby.
Zagh immediately surrendered again.
“Alright, alright! Boss really scared of pointy things, huh?”
He began unloading blades with exaggerated flair:
“Four from the chest… two from the belt… two from the lower back… one tucked behind the neck… two from the socks… two more from around the ankles…”
The attendant gave him a sideways look.
With a sigh, Zagh lifted his foot and pulled a tiny blade from the heel of his shoe.
“There! That’s the last one. Happy now?”
The attendant nodded slightly, saying nothing. But just then, one of the guards inspecting his bag paused… and pulled something out.
A small, plush toy.
A pink stuffed bunny.
The attendant looked at the toy with confusion.
Zagh, completely serious, said:
“If that bunny doesn’t come, I don’t either.”
All the stone-faced guards stared at the 190-centimeter-tall man as he stood his ground over a fuzzy toy.
Zagh continued:
“She’s my lucky charm. Without her, nothing goes right.”
He retrieved the plush toy and popped out a hidden magazine clip. The bunny piped up in its prerecorded voice:
“I love you, Zāgh!”
Zāgh’s face lit up childishly, excited:
“See? Every time she says that, my heart just melts!”
The guards exchanged looks. The old attendant sighed, paused for a moment—and finally relented.
With a triumphant grin, Zāgh strode into the train. Inside, every surface was lavish—diamonds, gold, and luxurious ornaments gleamed in the dim light. Zāgh walked through slowly, surveying every nook and cranny. Uniformed staff escorted him to the second carriage. The train began its journey, slicing through the steep slopes of the mountains.
When Zāgh opened the door to the second carriage, he froze at the sight before him: a man sat by the window—skin neither dark nor light but strikingly beautiful, long platinum waves like a French porcelain doll (not quite blond, not quite white), and deep navy-blue eyes.
For a few seconds, Zāgh was breathless—and he genuinely felt his mouth go dry. Only one thought raced through his mind:
Damn, boss’s b*tch for real?
If the boss hunted this kind of creature, he must have either incredible taste… or he molded him himself. A moment later, Zāgh shook himself.
Wait—if the boss’s btch is here, where the hell is the boss himself?*
He remembered his new position as secretary—basically an employee. He probably didn’t expect the boss himself to show up.
With that in mind, he stepped toward the angelic figure.
Zāgh (with a friendly smile):
“Hello!”
…No answer.
Deathly silence.
Zāgh forced a nervous grin.
Yep, they say the prettier they are, the colder they behave.
He leaned in and yelled with everything he had:
“HEEEEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
His yell echoed through the entire carriage.
Finally, the porcelain-faced man turned his head toward Zāgh. Zāgh flashed a confident smile—but the man ignored him and simply pointed toward someone by the door.
Seconds later, seven guards stormed in and dragged Zāgh out.
Zāgh (kicking and bewildered):
“WHAAAAAAAT?!”
As they hauled him away, he screamed:
“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! I JUST SAID HI! You throw me off the train just because the boss’s pet didn’t like my greeting?!”
Suddenly, ten more guards burst in from the previous carriage and, with precise efficiency, took down five of the men holding Zāgh…
Zāgh rolled aside, snatched an attacker’s weapon, and opened fire. Three floor in bullets.
He ripped off a fallen attacker’s coat and hurled it at the rest, blinding their vision.
Two of the guards still had a hold of him—but only for a moment before they were also eliminated.
Using a corpse as a shield, Zāgh dragged himself into the third carriage. He slammed the door shut, pulled out his plush toy again, and racked its clip to the last round.
The plush toy, in a robotic voice:
“Countdown to detonation… 20… 19…”
Zāgh immediately sprinted back toward the second carriage—the one with the porcelain-faced angel.
The man hadn’t moved an inch. Still seated. Still staring out the window. Still completely indifferent.
Zāgh stormed up to him, slid open the window, grabbed the angel by the collar, and with a devilish grin said:
“Pardon me.”
…and without a second’s hesitation, threw him out the window.
Zāgh placed one foot on the ledge, ready to jump himself—when suddenly, some of the men who’d been trying to kill him reappeared.
He shot them a wink—
and leapt.
Just as he soared into the freezing mountain air—
BOOOOOOM.
The entire train erupted behind him, torn apart in a violent explosion of metal, fire, and gold.
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