This story was written with the intention of wiping that horrid aftertaste of a certain sparkly vampire love story we all know.

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Chapter 1: Why Getting On The Last Carriage Of An Old Fashioned Steam Train Is A Bad Idea

The chime of the bells rang about throughout the station. A black steam locomotive train moved along the rail tracks, smoke trailing out of its spout. It came to a screeching halt as it neared the station. The people who sat on the benches by the rail tracks stood up and walked to the train.

One of them in particular was a fair woman in a black lolita-style dress. Her long ebony-black hair streamed down to her waist. She carried a parasol despite the day being rather cloudy. She walked to the last carriage of the train as it was the closest to her, following behind a woman and her two children.

She waited behind them as they got into the old-fashioned train and started to stare off into the clouds in a daze.

"Excuse me?" A man called out to her.

She snapped back into reality and looked at the man who stood in front of her. He wore a white suit and carried a black briefcase. His hair was that dyed in a blood-like red. He was tall and lean, a chivalrous smile on his face that would make any woman swoon.

She looked into his blue eyes. "Yes?"

"Aren't you going to get onto the train?" He asked as he gestured at the door to the train.

"Ah, yes!" She nodded.

"Ladies first." He smiled at her.

"Thank you." She smiled back as she got onto the train.

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The woman sat by the window, the space next to her being empty. She stared at her reflection on the window, right into her large brown eyes. Then, right on the reflection, she saw the same man in the white suit.

"Excuse me." He tried to grasp her attention as he scratched his head.

"Yes?" The woman turned around.

He asked her, "May I please sit here?" He pointed at the other seats which were occupied. "It's the only empty seat as of now."

"Please, by all means." The woman nodded.

"Thank you." The man gladly sat down and put his briefcase on the floor. He glanced at the closed parasol the woman laid against the seat in front of them. "Don't like the sun getting into your skin?"

"Yes." The woman nodded. "I just don't want to get a tan, that's all."

"Understandable." The man chuckled. "If I had skin as white as yours, I wouldn't want to lose it myself."

"Was that a compliment?" The woman looked out the window.

"Would you take it any other way?" The man questioned.

"No." The woman watched as the train started to move.

"Then it's a compliment." The man smiled as he looked away.

"Thank you." The woman smiled at him through her reflection.

The man started to take small whiffs of the smoky air from the spout of the train. "Doesn't it smell amazing?"

"No, it's really smoky, I don't find it amazing." The woman replied.

"But that's what's so amazing." The man leaned back in bliss. "It feels so historic. Modern trains just don't have this smell and feel. Plus, the people aboard these old-fashioned trains are nicer, unlike the ones on monorails who won't even give up their seats for an elderly woman. Makes me want to strangle them."

"They are rather disrespectful there at the city." The woman recalled her experiences. "But you're right. This smell and feeling gives me a bit of... Nostalgia."

"Nostalgia hm?" The man was enthralled by her choice of words.

"Is there a problem with it?" The woman tilted her head as she glanced at him.

"Not at all." The man shook his head in response.

The both of them then looked in opposite directions in silence, the woman admiring the moving scenery outside the train and the man looking at each and every passenger in the train.

Almost as if to break the silence, the man asked, "Oh yes, I forgot. May I ask for your name?"

"And pray tell, why would you like to know?" The woman looked back at him.

"I would like to know the names of every beautiful lady I come across, and pray tell, you happen to be a beautiful lady." The man gave her the chivalrous grin.

The woman giggled. "It's Marguerite. Marguerite Jarnfeldt."

"I see. A lovely name for a lovely lady." The man chuckled. "My name's Hugh Wutller. It's a pleasure to be sitting beside you."

"And it's a pleasure to be hit on by you." Marguerite looked at him in the eye.

"Does it come off that way to you?" Hugh was distraught.

"It doesn't come off any other way." Marguerite stroked her ebony-black hair.

"I apologize then." Hugh rested his chin in his palm

"I don't mind." Marguerite smiled as her eyes diverged to the windows. "But if you keep asking every beautiful lady for their names, don't you think you'd find trouble in getting a spouse?"

"I don't plan to anytime soon." Hugh glanced away for a moment. "Once you're deep enough in a relationship, they like to bicker so much you might as well shoot them in the face."

"Some women are like that." Marguerite sighed. "But don't lump them all into the same group."

Hugh gave her a snide smile. "And pray tell; are you in that same group?"

"I don't know." Marguerite shook her head. "I never actually was in a relationship with anyone."

"And why's that?" Hugh looked into her mud-brown eyes.

"Uhm..." Marguerite glanced away for a moment. "I'm just afraid that we'd grow apart and that I'd hurt him."

"It's usually the men doing the hurting nowadays." Hugh joked with a snicker.

Marguerite laughed modestly. "True, true. Or so the media says."

The train entered a tunnel. The train was pitch black for a moment and the shriek of two young children was heard. They stopped when the lights came on.

"And that's why I don't like kids." Hugh stated to Marguerite.

"Me too." Marguerite shook her head with a shrug. "I don't think I'll ever have one."

The train finally passed through the tunnel and went onto a long bridge that spanned from said tunnel to another one as it spanned over a sea. The view of the endless ocean captivated Marguerite as she stared at it, her pupils expanding.

"You look like it's the first time you've seen this." Hugh chuckled.

"Uh, no." Marguerite shook her head. "I just like this view very much."

"Well, it's time." Hugh grabbed his briefcase and stood up.

"Huh?" Marguerite was puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"Some important business." Hugh smiled at her. "This will be the last time we see each other."

"Oh. I see, goodbye then." Marguerite smiled at him as he walked towards the door to the carriage in front of theirs. She watched as he opened the door and stepped out, closing the door as he left.

She started thinking to herself. "(The last time? I feel a little sad that we can't see each other anymore. But it's probably for the best. If I stayed with him, I'll only end up hurting him.)"

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"La da de da~!" Hugh hummed as he stood between both carriages. He opened his briefcase and took out a sawed-off shotgun. He put his nose on the barrel and sniffed the gunpowder. "Ah, I love this smell so much! A preview to what's to come, or presmell, heheh."

He pointed the barrel at the bolt holding the two carriages together, his right hand on the grip, his index finger just itching to pull the trigger whereas his left hand was on the forend of the stock.

"And away she goes!" Hugh shouted joyously as he pulled the trigger.

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A loud bang was heard. The carriage started to screech as it slowed down. The passengers started to mumble among themselves as they started to panic. Marguerite sat down calmly.

The door slammed open and in came Hugh, armed with a sawed-off shotgun. The passengers panicked. They screamed and shrieked. That was until Hugh shut them up by firing a shot at the ceiling.

"Good, all of you have finally piped down." Hugh held the shotgun close to himself. "If you all remain calm, I promise you that you will be fine and perfectly safe."

The passengers complied. They sat down calmly and tried to maintain their composure. Though Hugh was a stranger to them, they knew that listening to him was their best bet for now.

"Nah, I lie." A psychotic grin appeared on Hugh's face as he quickly shot a man on his left with the shotgun. The man was blown away from the shot, his blood gushing out of his wound, spilling onto Hugh's white suit. "I'm gonna kill each and every one of you! Hahahahahahahahaha!"

A woman stood up and ran to the door opposite Hugh with a shriek.

"Nope." Hugh shot her on the back and toppled her down as she was blown off her feet and slammed against the door. Two men that sat nearby were hit by the ammo he shot.

Upon the sight of blood, the passengers were finally in a freaked out disarray. They were screaming as they tried to stay as far back from Hugh as possible, but they had nowhere to run from the shotgun totting Hugh.

His eyes glanced over at a man who actually wet his pants as he backed away from him. Hugh laughed hysterically as he pointed the shotgun at the man's crotch.

"Hey, head's up." Hugh said to the man.

"Huh?" The man raised his head.

"I'm gonna unleash my rage!" Hugh laughed as he said the line. He pulled the trigger and shot the man at point blank in the crotch. "How embarrassing of you! Wetting your pants! You don't deserve your balls. I'm doing the world a favour here, ahahahaha!"

Marguerite stared at Hugh in shock. "(He was so laid-back and chivalrous just barely a minute ago! What's gotten into him? Is this madman the same Hugh I just talked to?)"

"I say the bang! Bang! Bangity bang! I say the bang bang bangity bang! Bang bang bang!" Hugh sang as he shot the passengers at random, pulling the trigger each time he said 'bang'. His face started to be covered in his victims' blood and his suit was slowly turning red.

He finally came to the seat Marguerite sat at. Her brown eyes met his blue eyes and the same vice versa. "Hello Marguerite! I did say it was our last meeting. You're a very lovely lady, but I'm sure you'd look so much prettier covered in blood!"

Marguerite gasped and backed away fearfully. Unfortunately for her, the only thing behind her was the window. "P-Please, don't-"

"Whoops, my finger slipped!" Hugh pulled the trigger and gave Marguerite a face full of lead, blowing her head off and breaking the windows behind her. "See? Your heads' so much cuter when it's separated from that body of yours!"

Hugh turned around and saw the only three people left in the train that were still alive. A mother and her two children. His smile of insanity struck the darkest fear into their hearts as he neared them as slowly as possible.

Marguerite was sprawled on a blood covered floor. Multiple blood-like threads started to form between her neck and severed head. It pulled her head closer to her neck and finally, after several moments, she opened her eyes. "(That really hurt...)"

"No please!" The mother begged in tears. "I'm their only family, spare me!"

"Oh, you bitch!" Hugh cursed at her. "So you'd rather I shoot them? Some family you are!"

Marguerite could hear them loud and clear. But her mind was somewhere else. The entire carriage was covered in blood. Human blood. She starting panting. Her body started to heat up. "(No! I've sworn off human blood! I can't...!)"

Hugh pointed the shotgun at the mother. "So should I shoot you?" He then pointed it at her son. "Or him?" He pointed it at her daughter after that. "Or her?" He started to cycle through them. "Mother? Son? Daughter? Mother? Son? Daughter?"

The blood on the floor was irresistible to Marguerite. She was reluctant to even touch it, but eventually, she rubbed her right hand on the pool of blood on the floor. "(No Marguerite! Get your hand away from that!)"

"I've made up my mind." Hugh grinned maniacally with a creepy chuckle. He fired the shotgun at the mother straight in the head at point blank, causing it to be blown off and fly out the window. Hugh pumped his fist. "And it's a homerun!"

"Mother!" The children wept as tears poured down their eyes.

Marguerite's hand neared her face. She tried to push that hand away with her other one, but it was failing and failing terribly. "(Get it away! GET IT AWAY!)"

Hugh patted both kids' heads one by one. "No worries." He pointed his shotgun at the boy. "You'll both join that bitch real soon."

Marguerite's blood-covered right hand covered her mouth. She started licking the blood off, letting out moans as she slurped it, completely ignoring the sound of two gunshots. "(No...! Human blood's ten times better than animal blood... But I swore to myself! I swore I would never drink human blood! But it's just too... Delicious!)"

Hugh heard Marguerite's moans and turned to her. "The hell? Didn't I kill you?" He walked to her as she was in her own world and shot her in the head at point blank, blowing it across the room.

He stood there and waited patiently. Soon, multiple blood-like threads reassembled her head together with her body.

"... What." Hugh raised an eyebrow as Marguerite slowly sat up.

He pointed his shotgun at her and pulled the trigger, but no gunshot was heard. He ran out of ammo. He flipped the gun and grabbed it by its barrel. He then smashed its grip into Marguerite's head which made her fall face-first on the floor.

"Viva piƱata!" Hugh shouted as he smashed the grip against her head multiple times until it broke in half. "Ah, my toy!"

He kicked Marguerite over and noted how she was unconscious. He grumbled and felt the back of her head for bruises or at least a bump. But it was as smooth as a marble, to his disappointment.

He put her down and stared at her blood-covered face. "Heh, she really is prettier when she's covered in blood." Putting his chivalrous smile back on, he carried her like a bride. He walked toward the door at the back, kicked it open and jumped out of the train.

As he walked down the rail tracks, he uttered to the unconscious Marguerite. "I don't know how you're not dying, but I don't actually care. I can kill you as many times as I want this way."

He looked to his right at the endless ocean. As his stared, he smiled sincerely at her without a hint of his psychopathic nature. "I think I'm in love with you."

Chapter 1: End

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Author's notes:

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