Bullet Train Siege 3

  Nick Nolace

  Copyright © 2026 Nick Nolace

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Shout Out

  Dukes of Harem

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/dukesofharem

  Club Kaiju

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/484560235438701

  Harem GameLit

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/HaremGamelit/about

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Shout Out

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  I woke up with the hum of the train under my feet and the faint chill of winter air seeping through the metal plating. The passenger car around me was lit by flickering overhead lights, casting long shadows against the seats and aisles. Blair and Alina stood on either side of me. We had just passed through a newly unlocked bulkhead, stepping into this next section of the endless bullet train. All of us looked exhausted—the sort of tired where your mind can’t shake the feeling that something’s off, but you soldier on anyway.

  Blair was the petite one, with silver hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore a snug tank top and black leggings that highlighted her athletic frame. Alina, taller with dark brown hair, had a tight-fitting shirt and jeans that hugged her in all the right places—she was stunning in a way that was almost distracting. I was Asher, and despite my attempts to remember more about who I’d been, only my name felt certain. The rest of my past sat in a hazy void. The same went for my two companions. We had no clue how we got here. We only knew we had to survive.

  Sparks flew from a damaged overhead speaker, followed by that chilling voice we knew too well. “Welcome to the next phase of your journey,” The Conductor said. His tone was mocking, the same twisted glee we’d heard before. “Your previous kills and accomplishments, let’s call them… moot. Consider your score reset to zero. Show me you can adapt beyond your programming and maybe—maybe—you’ll make it to the front.”

  I exchanged a look with Alina and Blair. None of us responded. Talking back to The Conductor over the intercom never accomplished anything but more taunts. Instead, I took a few steps forward. The corridor ahead was narrower than the one we’d left, with an arched metal doorway that had to lead deeper into the train.

  “If we want to keep moving,” Blair said, her green eyes scanning the area, “we’d better figure out how. That giant checkpoint door back there is sealed shut.”

  She jerked her thumb at the sliding partition behind us, already locked. Usually each new train car had two barriers: one opening behind us once we cleared an area, and one ahead that we had to breach. This time, the door behind remained sealed. It made my stomach flutter with worry. We were on a one-way ride.

  I kept my voice steady to avoid showing how uneasy I felt. “We keep pressing forward. That’s how we beat him.” I raised my baton—my main means of defense for the moment. We’d picked up some basic bulletproof vests from older fights, but the baton was all I had in terms of a reliable melee weapon. My back twinged from a fight that felt like it happened ages ago, though it might’ve only been an hour or two.

  Alina wrapped her arms around herself, breathing slow puffs of air in the cold environment. “We don’t even know how big this train is. We have no idea what’s waiting.”

  “We know The Conductor wants us to fight for our lives,” I said. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  Up ahead, a mechanical beep came from around the corner. I nodded for Blair to follow me, and Alina fell in behind. It felt routine by now: I’d take the front, Blair kept an angle for cover, and Alina guarded our rear. My muscles tensed at every squeak and creak from the train’s joints.

  We stepped into the next compartment. Rows of overhead luggage bins lined the area, and the seats here had torn fabric, as if someone had gone at them with knives. Snow battered the outside windows, but all we could see was blackness beyond the swirling flakes. It was still night—or what passed for night in this never-ending journey. The neon overhead lights hummed, blinking on and off like they might give out any second.

  Alina grabbed my arm. “Look, there’s some kind of checkpoint door up there. And a keycard reader.”

  Sure enough, the door we needed to pass through sat on the far side, with a rectangular device attached to the wall. A little red LED flickered. A slot for a card was set beneath it.

  “We can’t open it from here,” Blair said, stepping up to the door, pressing her gloved hand against the seam in the metal. “We either find a keycard somewhere, or we backtrack.”

  “Backtracking’s not really an option,” I noted. “We can’t open that last bulkhead. It’s locked.”

  Alina paced, her dark brown hair swishing against her shoulders. “Maybe The Conductor left it intentionally so we can’t go back.”

  Overhead, the intercom crackled again. “A sealed checkpoint? How interesting. Well, you can always scavenge if you’re resourceful. Maybe you’ll find what you need in the recesses of this car. Or maybe not.”

  “Shove it,” Blair muttered.

  The Conductor’s laugh echoed, tinny and irritating. “I look forward to seeing how you adapt. If you think your old ways will carry you forward, you’re mistaken. Reinvent yourselves, or perish. Pleasant hunting.”

  The speaker clicked off, leaving behind that dull electrical buzz. I took a few steps deeper into the car, then saw a small corridor that branched to the left—maybe leading to a supply closet or a side lounge. The overhead sign said EMPLOYEES ONLY. Beneath it was a single bullet-riddled door. Could be something in there.

  “Let’s check that,” I said, pointing. “We might find something to open the checkpoint door.”

  We moved carefully toward the employees-only door. Alina pressed an ear against it and gave a slight shrug. “I don’t hear anything.”

  I pulled my baton up, braced for trouble. Blair hovered behind me with her pistol held low but ready.

  I yanked open the door. Inside was a short hallway lined with small lockers. A single fluorescent light buzzed overhead. It looked ransacked—broken locks, doors hanging open, scattered trash. I felt a flash of disappointment. It was exactly like the rest of this train: tossed to hell. But a few lockers were still closed, maybe locked. Could be worth a look.

  We spread out, quietly checking for anything useful. Alina pried at one locker door, but it was jammed. Blair kicked another door until it snapped open. Inside, we found an empty holster, some loose bullets that didn’t match our guns, and a tangle of wires. No keycard.

  I spotted a battered vending machine at the end of the corridor. The brand name was half scratched off, but a bold sign read: EQUIPMENT. My adrenaline rose. This was exactly how I’d originally found my baton—a random gear dispenser that spat out items if you had the right tokens. We rummaged through our pockets, but no new tokens. We’d used the last we had in a previous car.

  “Maybe it’s jammed or out of order,” Alina said, glancing at the broken display.

  Frustrated, I smashed the side of the vending machine with my baton. “Come on, give us something.”

  A soft whir sounded from inside. Blair looked at me, eyes wide. Then a digital text crawl flickered across the cracked screen: Token error. Please insert card #02.

  “So much for that,” I muttered. Even the vending machine wanted a keycard we didn’t have.

  Defeated, we circled back to the main passenger area, hearts pounding at every squeak. Finally, we returned to the sealed checkpoint. No sign of a keycard among the seats or anywhere along the walkway. My mind kept racing—there had to be some other door or compartment. We combed the walls and found a small access panel under the floor near the checkpoint door. A thick cable ran from the panel into the keycard reader.

  Blair knelt. “We might be able to rewire this, skip the card entirely.”

  “Worth a shot.” I crouched beside her, but the moment she pried open the metal flap, a loud beep erupted.

  “Unauthorized access detected,” blared a robotic voice from the same speaker. “Please swipe keycard or remain locked out.”

  She quickly shut the panel. “Damn it.”

  Alina folded her arms and stared at the sealed checkpoint. “We can’t go back, we can’t open this. Unless we scavenge further or figure out how to cheat the system. Which means another part of this car might have what we need.”

  I nodded. “We’ll find it. We push forward, no matter the risk.”

  “But we can’t push forward,” Blair said, frustration shading her tone. “That’s the problem.”

  I lowered my baton. “I mean, we keep exploring this entire car. We must’ve missed something. We can’t just cave in to The Conductor’s game.”

  Before we split up, I heard the overhead speaker click again. My stomach dropped. That laugh. “I said this train will only accept winners, not losers. Every step you take is a chance to prove what you are. By all means, keep going.”

  I gritted my teeth. “He wants us to second-guess ourselves, waste time.” I took a few steps toward the far corner, near the rows of seats, ignoring the ominous rattle from the HVAC system overhead. “I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”

  My mind flickered with old questions. Who was I before? Why do I know how to handle a baton in a fight, or keep a mental track of ammunition? There must have been training in my past, but it felt like a dream slipping away.

  I signaled for them to follow as I moved to the last row of seats near a battered restroom door. Sure enough, behind that door was a small, out-of-order bathroom. In the corner was a hatch marked SERVICE. I pried it open, stepping down into a cramped storage area that smelled like chemicals and wet steel.

  Alina followed me first, then Blair. The narrow crawl space forced us practically single-file. My shoulders brushed the walls. The overhead was only a few inches above my head. Dim lights flickered, revealing a small metal table in the corner with scattered tools. And there—lying in the corner—was a battered maintenance wallet with a faded ID card partially sticking out.

  My heart skipped. “Look,” I said, inching closer.

  Alina let out a soft breath of relief. “That’s gotta be it.”

  I picked it up, brushing away grime. The card was laminated, featuring a photo of some middle-aged guy wearing a train uniform. The text read: LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE – CAR #14. I stared at it. “This might be our key.”

  Blair’s eyebrows lifted. “Check the backside. Could be coded for that reader upstairs.”

  I flipped it. The magnetic strip looked intact. “Alright, let’s see if we can open that door without pissing off half the assassins on this train.”

  We climbed back out of the hatch, the weight of the card in my hand making me feel slightly more confident. Alina and Blair fanned out, scanning the corners in case we triggered a trap. I swiped the card. The reader beeped from red to green.

  With a metallic groan, the checkpoint door slid open. My breath fogged in the cold air streaming from the next car. A faint overhead light revealed another corridor. For once, it looked quiet—no immediate sign of enemies or more locked doors. We stepped inside, keeping formation. When the bulkhead slammed behind us, it was as though we’d passed the test The Conductor laid out.

  Up ahead, a giant placard reading “KEYCARD REQUIRED” glowed overhead. “Guess we’ll need more than one if we’re going to keep advancing,” Blair said, exhaling slowly.

  I ran my thumb over the card’s surface. “This is only a start. If The Conductor wants to test how we handle each challenge, we’ll have to adapt—like he said.”

  Alina stepped close, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We survive by choosing who we are now, not by who we were. Right?”

  I nodded, meeting her warm brown eyes. For a moment, that gave me the resolve to stand straighter. “Exactly. And if we’re going to prove it, let’s move.”

  A low hiss preceded The Conductor’s voice one last time, “Only winners move forward. And you have so far. Bravo.” The line crackled off, leaving us alone again in the flickering corridor, each with a racing heart.

  “Let’s see where it goes,” I told the girls. And as we advanced, I couldn’t help the faint flicker of hope that maybe soon we’d find answers—some clue about why we were here, why we couldn’t remember our pasts, and how to reach the front of this damned train to face The Conductor in person.

  Chapter 2

  The corridor beyond the checkpoint was narrower than expected, forcing us to move single-file. My breath billowed in the cold. We stepped quietly, but every footstep echoed on metal panels. Soon, we emerged into a wide car with forging-like lights overhead. Vents spewed hissing steam. Rows of cargo crates lined each side like a makeshift barricade, with a walkway down the center.

  I froze, scanning the perimeter. My instincts told me we’d walked into a kill zone. And sure enough, the moment we were fully inside, bullet fire tore across the crates. Sparks showered from ricochets.

  “Down!” I yelled. We dove behind the crates, hearts pounding, as muzzle flashes lit the gloom. I caught sight of black-clad figures perched behind the upper walkway railings, rifles in hand. Grunts—The Conductor’s foot soldiers, or maybe hired assassins. I didn’t know or care. All that mattered was taking them out or pushing through.

  Alina pressed her back against a crate, brown eyes wide. “We don’t have enough ammo for a long shootout.”

  Blair, pistol in hand, grit her teeth. “We might have to force our way through.”

  I nodded, mentally tallying how many rounds we had left. Blair carried a pistol with a single partial magazine. My baton wouldn’t help much against a firing line from a distance. “We’ll have to be smart.”

  A bullet clipped the corner of the crate, sending a shard of metal whizzing past. Blair flinched. “We can’t just wait here. They’ll flank us.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Alright, on three, we move to that next crate stack. Alina, you watch left. Blair, I’ll try to distract them so you can get a shot.” She gave me a quick nod in acknowledgment. I counted down, then we sprinted.

  Gunfire roared. My lungs burned from the effort of running in the cold air. I dove behind the next stack of crates, baton clutched in my left hand. Blair took position a few feet away, popped up, and fired three shots toward the shooters above us. Once again, we had to duck to avoid their barrage. They were peppering the crates relentlessly.

  “These guys are chewing through our cover,” I said, eyes darting for a better approach. “We need to force them to reposition.”

  Alina pointed to the far side of the car. I followed her gesture to a maintenance cabinet mounted on the wall. “If there’s something in there—like a keycard—it might trigger an alarm,” she said. “But we need it, right?”

  A string of bullets hammered the metal overhead, cutting off any easy route. I grimaced. “There’s got to be a reason that cabinet’s so obvious. The Conductor might have set a trap.”

  Blair risked another shot, but one of the grunts fired back, forcing her down. “Yeah, but we don’t have enough ammo to search the whole damn train for a safer option. We have to grab that card.”

  “Conserve ammo or search for an untrapped card,” Alina said, repeating the debate out loud. “But we’re pinned.”

  It was a direct reflection of what we’d faced before. Wasting time rummaging around a train car we already left behind wasn’t possible. Retreat seemed impossible. We had to keep moving.

  “Any bright ideas?” Blair asked me, not unkindly, just frustrated.

  I took stock of the situation. The longer we stayed pinned, the less ammo we’d have. We had to do something. “We risk the alarm,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice. “We grab the card, and we fight through the response. Better we pick the terms than be stuck here.”

  “Agreed,” Blair said firmly.

  We formed a quick plan: I would dash to the cabinet, yank it open, and grab whatever I could. Blair would lay down cover fire from behind the crates. Alina would watch for flankers. Once I had the card, we’d fall back into the narrow connector behind us. We could set up a choke point from there, forcing them to come to us.

  I took a deep breath, readied my baton. “On my mark.” Blair lifted her pistol, took aim. “Mark!”

  She popped up and fired several rounds, drawing the attackers’ focus. I bolted from cover, heart hammering. The distance to the cabinet felt endless. Bullets pinged around me. Adrenaline surged. I slid the last few feet, catching the metal handle of the cabinet and flinging it open. Sure enough, a keycard dangled from a small chain inside, labeled CAR #15. My eyes flicked to a blinking red light at the top of the cabinet—an alarm device. The second I grabbed the card, an earsplitting klaxon blared through the car. Red lights strobed overhead.

  “Warning! Unauthorized removal detected. Security response engaged.”

 

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