RolePlayGateway™

Chapter 1
The Man in the Suit


A lone girl sat silently as the quiet roar of the ocean rolled over her, and the water rose above, and sank below her feet, over and over, like a gentle message. Her hands were hot, pressed bare up against the sand, cooked all day by the sun. The distance caw of a gull could be heard, and the gentle sea breeze would wrap itself around her form, making her long hair flutter amidst itself, an elegant dance with nature. In the sky the sun shone down, unabashed by clouds, serene, calm, undisturbed, just like the beach, said for a small trail of faded footprints that stopped where she sat. No one was here, she was alone, just how she liked it.
A misty air flew around her again, slowing to twirl through her hair, and over her shoulders like a shawl. It was salty, but not in the way of ill cooked beef, seasoned to disguise the char and burns, but as it should smell, feel. Like the ocean itself was trying to give her a hug from behind, and was breathing down around her as it did. It comforted her to feel it once more, and pained her when it released its grip and wisped off. Another wave broke against the shore, splashing the falsely dubbed blue ocean water against her once more. Why was it the water could only be seen as it really was once it was up close? Why did it seem to reflect her eyes from afar? She guessed it mattered not, and once again closed her eyes to the world around her, ignoring her sight to focus on the sounds and smells of the ocean as it continued its endless waltz around the world.
A school of fish swam up to her feet, encircling them before leaving her be. A grumbling within her, coupled with the fish visit, reminded her of how long she had been sitting there, and how hungry she had become over the hours. Opening her eyes, she lifted a hand from the sand, rubbing it against itself to remove what she could of the beach from her skin, before pressing it back into the sand, pushing herself up onto her feet. Her dress now free from beneath her, waved slightly with the breeze and her hair, just above the waters her feet stood firmly within. With a single wipe back and forth, she cleaned her hands before bending over to dip them into the cool water. She smiled as she played with her reflection with her hands, before withdrawing them again, gently rubbing the water across her forearms.
Turning her head back the way from whence she came, she sighed softly, as she was once again reminded as to why she was leaving such a tranquil place. She stepped from the water onto the sand, and with a wince stepped back into the cool liquid. It had gotten so hot between the morning and now. Deciding against walking barefoot through the sand back to her sandals, she waded the shallowest of the waters along the edge of the beach, the surf still lapping at her tender skin. The distant sound of a train arriving at its station could be heard. If she didn't make it to there in time, she would have to wait for the next train, but she didn't mind waiting a bit extra before heading home, should had some money on her to buy something at the station to tide her over.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned toward the station from her spot in the water. It was a good distance away, with naught but scorching sand between them, and to make matters worse, she could see her shoes set aside on the porch, almost like they were taunting her, prancing around just beyond her grasp, just beyond the time she needed them. They were always away when she wanted them most, as most things seem to be in life. The splashing of children could be heard not too far behind her, this plot was more desirable for the tourists, and it would be unusual for it to be vacant at such a time of day. A brother and sister were playing about, treading the water whilst splashing it up toward each other, the inverse of the peace she was just until recently enjoying, but not repulsing in any way. It was a different sort of peace, a careless strain of nature, sprung within the lives of two children at play, their mother sitting beneath the shade of her parasol.
The rumble of a rolling train met her ears as the engine departed, leaving a handful of passengers now stranded on the beach for half an hour. Among them, out of step with the cheery smiles and bathing suits that adorned the running and skipping crowds, was a man dressed in a suit. From afar, he looked like he just finished perfecting himself, but as he walked closer, she noticed how ruffled, and crinkled his clothes were, and on his face sat, instead of a smile, a solemn look of depression. What was such an unhappy man doing here? “Excuse me!” she called out to the man, waving an arm high in the air, open palmed, waving to and fro. The man looked up toward her voice, assured it wasn't directed toward him, but none other even glanced in her direction as they ran past, and into the waters around her, splashing the waves hard enough to send droplets of water along the rim of her dress.
“I left my sandals at the station, and the sand's hot, would you please fetch them for me?” she made sure to keep his attention as she pointed toward her sandals. Knowing full well it was he whom she was shouting to, he looked amidst the ground in search of her sandals, and upon finding them, he scooped them up and started toward her, marching past the life guard towers like the edges of a prison gates setting free a man full of regret over his crimes, one who didn't seek freedom. Didn't think he was worth it, that he was deserving. As he got closer, she saw that, like her, he wasn't wearing shoes, and that sand was now filling the folds at the bottom of his dress-pants, and yet he didn't mind it at all. Upon reaching the waves of the waters, he stepped in with no hesitation, offering silently the shoes to her. “Is something wrong? Why are you dressed like that here?” The man averted his eyes, saying with a monotone voice, “I thought I'd spend my lunch break here today.” She eyed him suspiciously, not buying his lie about a lunch break, but instead of chiding the truth from him, she gave him a quick hug, nothing too long, whispering into his ear, “Whatever is bothering you will only be temporary, you'll be okay soon.”
She slipped on her sandals, letting the space between the material and her feet fill with water one last time before stepping into the sand. As she made her way toward the train, she turned and waved back at the man, who just stood there, like a statue of flesh and bone, waiting for the waters to rise and claim him. In the back of her heart, she really wished the best for the stranger, and that he wasn't going to do what she thought he was going to. Taking a seat atop a waiting bench on the boarding platform, she sat still for a while before once again remembering why she was leaving the beach. To her side she saw an old vending machine, the metal box scarred with paints trying to advertise a now discontinued brand of sodas and snacks, the logo blistered off by the sun leaving only distorted letters, spelling naught but gibberish. Inside, concealed by thick glass were the routinely filled assortment of snacks, some freshly restocked, others older than she, and nothing good among either group.
Taking out the crumpled dollar in her pocket, she slipped it into the machine's greedy mouth, and punched in the alphanumeric combination for the least unappealing product it offered, and with a thunk it was dislodged from its coiled cell and into the gateway of freedom, and death. She bent over and grabbed her prize, only once more looking at the cold vendor, its digital eyes spelling out the price for another transaction, not satisfied to have had deprived her of sustenance worth the dollar it now held within itself. Taking her seat back, she unpackaged the snack, eating from the wrapper slowly, letting her stomach and tongue accustom themselves to the swill before taking another bite. Minutes passed, half an hour of sitting silently watching the man stand there looking out over the waters as if deep in thought, before the train came by again, letting off no one. Taking a seat in the middle of the car, aside a window, she looked out toward the beach, and failed to see the man anymore.
“Thank you for choosing Speed Rails, the train will be departing soon, so please remain in your seats until such a time when we inform you otherwise, thank you for complying,” a voice rang out over an intercom, and she turned her head away from the window. A jolt ran through the car as the train pulled forward an inch, and then started moving at its true pace, leaving the beach behind. The interior of the car that engulfed her was bland, a pale shade of off-white, with streaks of faded black uniformly spread amidst the cloudy coat, outlining corners, and subdividing the car every which way. The upholstery of her seat was faded and torn, from months of wear and tear by abusive children, and the occasional enraged adults. The lights suspended from the roof hung aloft, cords frayed around the chain-link supports from above, the bulbs within occasionally flickering as the train shook. An incessant rumble filled any would be silence, coupled with a low murmur of the wiring betwixt the metallic shell of the train car. All in all, this was the worst part of visiting the beach, albeit worse whilst the cars are crowded in the afternoon, with voices raging louder than need be, vying for dominance of all volume within the tin can.
Shaking her head, she looked outside her window at the world passing by around her, as the train shot further and further along its tracks, a bullet speeding across the landscapes that birthed it, not bothering to stop for anything or anyone, waiting only to pierce the heart of the next gun to fire it from its chamber, and repeat the process all over again. Along sped trees and grasses and flowers, blue, red, yellow and pink, and colors yet to be named, creating a beautiful floret of floral wonder. The endless bouquets flew by, to be replaced with new and wilder arrangements, and again by more ordered greens, and then the fields of rural farms, a mixture of chaos and order. Dotting the amber fields were farmers and ranchers, working eternally to meet an ever growing demand of their labor, whilst dealing with a shortage of ability to meet the demand, due to the very same individuals, the very same who cry out for their work, their toil, their sweat and their blood. Their breads, fruits, meats, crops.
In a blink, all were replaced with darkness as the train entered a tunnel beneath a mountain of stone. Outside were only the narrow ledges used for maintenance of the shaft, dimly lit by an occasional light along the wall or above, illuminating only steel plates lining every inch of the interior, some etched with doors or a camera, linking back to some distant room, watched by a very lonely man, besieged by his own depression brought on by his civic duties, and by the coldness his wife was giving him at home, when she was now out about the town with other men, hiding her wedding ring in her purse so none can see it, nor know of it. Graffiti lined some of the plating, spelling out random names, some with unintelligible lettering, the ignorant pride of their creator shown by the time and effort put into the signatures, by their being the only source of color in the darkness that threatens to swallow passersby whole.
The back door to her car opened and in walked someone, someone she didn't think was on the train at the time, as she never saw them prior to now. She recognized the person from earlier that day, by the clothes they wore, how they stuck out for it. It was one of the train attendants, dressed in her cliché uniform, befitting a hostess, tussles of white fabric enveloping her blue dress, encasing within a sea of soft, and smooth purity. If she didn't know any better, she would have mistaken the attendant for a maid of some random European castle. With movements as uniform as her outfit, she marched forward in a mock militaristic style toward her before promptly asking, “Excuse me miss, do you have your ticket stub?”