Who: Nikki Wood What: From NYC to LA When: Evening Where: The LA Metro Subway status/rating: complete/PG-13
"This is the Bronx bound D train. Next stop, 125th street."
The last thing Nikki remembered was the voice, the typical subway announcer that sounded statically throughout the car barreling through the underground tunnels. Her last thought was that she'd missed her stop, and damn it if this wasn't an express train. 125th, Treemont, Fordham… Bernard was never going to find her. She hadn't told him where she was going or what she was doing. Robin knew she was going to 'work', but in a city as big and as infested as New York, that didn't help anyone. And now she'd missed her stop and she was about to be killed on an empty express train rushing stop after stop past home.
Nikki wondered how the blonde vampire straddling her would feel, knowing that she wasn't thinking about fear of death, or even fear of him. She was just pissed she was dying on a the D train. One on one with a vampire who looked like he should have been strung up on heroin in some club down in the Village. Looks didn't mean shit, she knew that much, but it was the principle of the thing. This wasn't how she was supposed to go out. She hadn't just survived a never ending blackout --spent almost twenty-four hours straight killing vampires first on the streets and then chasing them back into the sewers and subway tunnels-- to be taken out by one vampire, even this vampire, alone in a subway car.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
But it did happen. And quickly. Grafitied train cars, nearly white blonde hair, and one of those famed subway rats were the last things she saw before William the Bloody snapped her neck.
"This is the Aqua Line. Next stop: Union Station."
The D train didn't go to Union Square.
"Hey, you okay?"
"This stop: Union Station."
Union Station, not Union Square. Nikki jumped up from where she'd been lying on the ground far too easily for someone who'd just been killed, and as shocked as the passengers on the LA Metro Rail were to see her, she was far more shocked to see them. She didn't recognize the people –clothes, hair, what they were carrying—or the train itself. It was… clean. No graffiti, no stains on the walls and seats, and the map on the wall was pretty much foreign to her. The stops and the lines were completely different and the only thing she could tell immediately was that it wasn't New York.
When the doors opened for the Union Station shop a breeze blew over her arms and for the first time Nikki realised she was missing her beloved black trench.