"You're late, Cross," Lexi stated flatly, her eyes flicking back and forth across the deserted hallway before falling on the young man before her. He gave her an uncommitted shrug, running a hand through his dark hair and staring at her with tired eyes.

"Train delay. Conductor sick. Next train. Twenty minutes. Good to see you too, Lex. Now shut up," Cross said tersely, pushing past her and into the room. He shrugged off his hooded-jacket and fell onto the bed after a quick fist bump with Banksy. He eyed the open safe, reaching from the bed and picking up a loose diamond. "Mind if I take this one?"

"Gonna give it to some unlucky girl?" Banksy grinned before ducking as Cross launched a pillow at him.

"Just always good to have some leverage." Cross said, slipping the rock into his pocket. "What are we delivering today?"

"This." Lexi walked into the room and dropped the letter on his chest. Cross picked it up and turned it over in his hands curiously.

"A letter?" He rolled over and threw an arm over his eyes, letting the letter drop to the floor. "The Posters can handle that."

"It's a will." Lexi corrected him. "A rather important one. An entire estate hinges on that will being delivered before the Kingdom takes control of all the assets and they are sold off to the highest bidder. Someone worked very hard to keep it from being found."

"Perfect." Cross yawned. "Wake me up in fifteen princess."

From his spot on the floor Banksy shook his head, not bothering to look up.

Lexi stared down at Cross for almost a full minute, an uncharacteristically generous offering, before slamming her open palm into his stomach and twisting her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Cross let out a loud curse as he was lifted bodily from the bed and tossed across the room. He slid down the wall and fell to the ground in a pathetic pile, moaning meekly. Lexi took a step towards him.

"Right, then. Important." Cross said with a groan as he pushed himself up from the floor and poked at his bruised stomach experimentally. He accepted the will from Banksy without a word and slipped it into a thick leather pouch that was strapped securely to the side of his right leg. He gave Lexi a mock salute before he began to walk towards the door, leaving his jacket lying on the bed. "Courier Cross, package accepted. Estimated delivery: Five hours."

"Not taking your jacket?" Banksy called, trying not to laugh. "Don't want you catching a cold."

"Wore it the entire ride with the hood up, ditching it should throw off any tails I might have picked up. I'll take the back way out of here too, just to be safe. After that last job… I think we're starting to get too popular with someone." Cross shook his head. "I'll see you guys back at home tomorrow."

He gave them a halfhearted wave before disappearing out the door.

"You know, you didn't have to hit him that hard." Banksy said before nervously eyeing the discarded jacket. "You really think he's being followed?"

"Cross can handle himself." Lexi said confidently, but the words sounded hollow to Banksy. "Grab the rest, it's time to go."

xXx

Cross watched the countryside pass by at a rapid pace through the train's window, the first few hours of the trip passed by in what felt like a blink. He watched with mild amusement a group of young bullins attempt to keep pace with the train, thick steam blowing from their nostrils as they threw their horned heads with determination as they raced faster and faster. However, even with their considerable speed they soon fell out of his view and he settled back into his seat, glancing around the nearly empty compartment. Yawning, he started to close his eyes when a weight dropped in his stomach.

It only took him a moment to realize what was wrong.

It was highly unusual for a car to be this empty, especially this time of the day. The train station itself had been rather busy. It didn't make any sense. He rubbed his temples, eyes flicking to the other passengers. There were only four, all of them men, all wearing similar clothing. Plain brown jackets and pants. The two to his right were sitting together across from him at a table, while the other two were spread apart a few rows in front of him. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

His mind went blank.

"Where are you headed?"

Cross opened his eyes and looked up. The two men to his right were now standing in in front of him, one of them leaning down towards him, his hand resting on the edge of the table. He had a particularly large nose.

"Just heading home." Cross answered politely, seeing the other two begin to stand up and head towards him.

"I really don't have time for this." Large-Nose snapped, reaching down with his other hand. He grabbed Cross by the back of the head and slammed him violently against the table. "I know you have it. Give it to me and we will let you leave."

"Where are you headed?"

Cross opened his eyes just as Large-Nose leaned down, resting his hand on the edge of the table. Cross gave the man a cheery smile before grabbing him by the collar and smashing him face first against the table. There was a sickening crunch as Large-Nose's large nose broke. Blood flowed freely as Cross pushed him back and slammed his fist into the throat of the other, Moustache. Gasping, Moustache reached for his throat and Cross took the chance to kick him hard in the side of the knee and take off for the door to the next compartment. He pulled at the door handle, but someone had jammed it. Tug as he might he only managed to slide it a few inches before it refused to budge any further.

"Right then." He murmured, turning around.

Large-Nose had managed to unsteadily get back up, though Moustache was still on the ground, one hand clutching at his throat and another at his knee. Behind them Baldy had pulled a knife from inside his coat. With a rough push Baldy sent Large-Nose careening into the bench seating and approached Cross.

"Just give us the will, we have no trouble with you or the other Rippers."

"Sorry, but I'm a Courier" Cross said, bringing up his fists. "Wouldn't be much good if I didn't deliver my packages.

Baldy took another step towards him, now only a few feet out of striking range. "It's not just us kid, this whole place is filled with Followers. You will not leave alive. The Word of Jerrah is absolute."

When Cross did not waver he lunged forward with the knife. Stepping forward Cross blocked the knife with his left forearm, the blade slicing through the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt before pinging off the bracer underneath. Baldy's eyes widened in surprise as Cross's right hand came up to strike him across the face. As he staggered back Cross stepped forward, delivering another punch, then another, before grabbing Baldy by the head and pulling him down while swinging his knee up. The blow was enough to drop the man to the floor without even a whimper. Flexing his hands Cross looked up at Short-Man.

In retrospect he wasn't really that short, maybe half-a-head under Cross's own height. He was, however, quite muscular. A fact Cross noted at the man removed his jacket to reveal shockingly large arms covered in a dizzying array of tattoos.

"Alright Muscles, let's get this over with." Cross said, bouncing on the balls of his feet and bringing up his hands up.

Seemingly unmoved by his injured partners Muscles stepped forward and over the still whimpering Moustache, bringing up his own, large fists. There was a beat of hesitation before Cross stepped forward and threw a quick jab that Muscles blocked with ease before moving with unexpected swiftness and grabbing Cross by the throat. Lifting him up from the ground, Muscles tossed him to the side. The window cracked as Cross made impact. Gritting as he fell onto one of the tables, Cross spun his body and kicked out at muscles, but despite landing a decent blow to the mans head, it did nothing to stop him from grabbing onto Cross's leg and tossing him like a ragdoll.

As he flew through the air Cross made a desperate grab for the back of a chair, his fingers grasping into the soft material and his body plopping down on the seat before could hit another window. Turning his head, he had only a moment before Muscles was on him, the thick hands once again wrapping around his throat. Unable to breath Cross tried to break Muscles grip, but the man was too strong. Almost completely out of air Cross brought up his hands between Muscles arms and planted them directly below Muscles' face.

He flicked his ring fingers.

Two small balls of blinding light erupted from Cross's wrists and struck Muscles in the face. With a howl he recoiled back, releasing Cross and clawing at his burning face.

Gasping, Cross sat up before launching at Muscles, sending them both toppling back into another bench. Lifting up his armored wrist he slammed it repeatedly into Muscles' forehead until, finally, the man ceased to struggle. With a deep breath Cross pushed himself off the unconscious man and tried to stand up, but settled for leaning tiredly against an unoccupied bench. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he pulled up his sleeves and investigated his bracers and the attached barrels. With a quick flick of his wrist he ejected the spent flash bang casings and inserted new cartridges before sliding his sleeves back in place, frowning at the long tear on his left sleeve.

A click of the sliding door across from him brought his eyes up as another group of Followers entered, their expressions grim and weapons already drawn. Cross let out a heavy sigh and pushed himself off the bench, bringing up his fists.

"Right, then."