BULLET

Why was I on this train? Where was it going? When would it stop? Who AM I???

A deluge of questions rattled around in the man's mind as he struggled to consciousness. To get a look at his own reflection in the mirror, his disheveled, clean-shaven appearance made him appear to be in his mid-forties. He fished around in his jacket pocket for...anything.

The cold handle of a pistol that he didn't dare remove to check for the grade of? Depending on where he was going, he must have packed it for a reason; but it didn't seem kosher to reveal it in the middle of a train ride.

A much smaller handle? No; something in the back of his mind clicked that it was a switchblade. His guess was, wherever this train was going, he hadn't boarded it for pleasure (though it did raise the question of what business he was supposed to be in, on top of what his name was or where he came from). Well, better to go through with a train ride without exposing a pistol and switchblade...

Plastic! Finally! He fished out the tiny plastic card and, yes, it was a State ID. Granted, it was part of a State ID...

Adrian Bullet.

04/22/77

The requisite name was there (and, yes, the speculation of mid-forties was dead on the nose); but no place of birth or the prerequisite License number. Also "Adrian Bullet???" What bad detective noir had this poor chap landed in; smackdab in the middle of a high-speed train?

He detected a tiny "Ping" in the back of his mind (did the human mind PING now?) that told him to search his immediate area. He glanced about for only a moment and settled, laser focused, on an attache case by his feet!

He quickly collected up the case with renewed vigor. Surely it had a cell phone with contacts or a wallet with a proper State ID.

A laptop (password protected of course; with a password that had disappeared with every other memory) tumbled out. As did two slips of paper.

Defeated once more, Mr. "Bullet" begrudgingly unfolded a slip of paper.

"Infiltrate the KGB in Ukraine, figure out there plans, and SHUT. THEM DOWN! Good luck, Bullet. Your partner and daughter are in protected custody until we hear from you."

KGB??? UKRAINE? At least Bullet knew where he was going now; and it sort of explained the weapons that he had been recklessly allowed to keep...

He unfolded the next slip of paper to discover a non-English language...

"Deceive the American SWINE into thinking that we are beaten by your hands! Then, help the Leader in his take-over. We will send you back to the Heartland from there. You're a smart man who will know what to do from there; if you want your loved ones to survive!"

He understood both langauges PERFECTLY! He could cross-read English AND Russian to a tee. It didn't exactly answer whose alliance he belonged to. But he COULDN'T aid in the invasion of a peaceful foreign country, could he? Or, for that matter, he couldn't harm his family and loved ones; whether he remembered them or not...

Bullet's mind started ticking at a mile a minute as he saw all around him (yes, he could almost HEAR the unnatural ticking and pinging now). The one-way bullet train wasn't slowing down and somehow, Bullet registered that it should have.

A cabin door opened and three uniformed men entered. Bullet's brain registered that these three didn't belong. It also snapped to a knowledge of fisticuffs. Good; "spare the gun and knife; pummel the intruders to the point where they wouldn't forget...!"

Bullet took in the carload of passengers whom had been startled out of their personal worlds of sleep or electronic distraction and he sighed. He wasn't sure that he wanted to do what would come next; but these new three sure did seem to mean harm to someone. He crouched out of his seat, tensed his muscles, and waited. If nothing else, he'd let the bad guys get in the first word and at least hear an accent. After all, whoever he was, he had to be the good guy, didn't he...?