The reason for Captain Buddingtonite not answering his crystal was very clear and he was certain that once he told him what exactly was keeping him from answering Serpentine's call that his friend would understand. It wasn't that Buddingtonite was blatantly ignoring him, or that he had misplaced the crystal, though given his scatterbrained state it might not have been too out of the realm of possibilities for him. He knew that he'd be worried, because that's just how Serpentine was. And he could imagine the earful he'd receive when this whole fiasco was done and over with. But that had meant that he needed to survive this ordeal, and there'd be no one happier to live past this night than Buddingtonite...

He was warned by his fellow agents that since the eclipse, there had been these doppelgangers of themselves roaming around, and that these doppelgangers weren't the friendly kind. Reports of attacks by darker versions of themselves were pouring in, and thus far, Buddingtonite thought himself fortunate to have avoided his evil dark twin (the actual one, not his twin brother). But it would figure that fate would not favor him for long, as he had cheated on her a few times over and she was a cruel, unforgiving b***h.

Despite the fact that he was trying to kill him, his shade was a rather interesting fellow. Easy on the eyes, despite the garish shade of grey that lingered on his skin, and even though there was a murderous tint in his eyes, his smile was certainly expressive and Buddingtonite found himself admiring that pearly white grin of his. He may have been his evil, greyed-out double sent solely to destroy him, but he certainly looked more alive and expressive than he himself felt right now...

"Hm... so, you're here to kill me?" Buddingtonite asked, looking at his double as he stood across the train tracks, thankful that there was just enough space between them that he'd have enough time to collect his thoughts and come up with some kind of strategy against the incoming onslaught. His double, though looking just as dashing and suave as himself in his dull grey uniform, did not share his love for words or scenery chewing, and the silence he heard from the other side of the tracks was truly discouraging. "Well, that's certainly a shame. You see, I was just thinking of how beneficial it'd be if there were two of me... one of us to do all the boring work like killing and maiming our enemies, while the other sat in a cushy chair and do all the necessary paperwork. Certainly that can be appealing to you?"

His doppelganger made a motion with his hands, and within the blink of an eye, his boomerang had appeared and was thrown towards him. Buddingtonite barely dodged the strike, leaning towards his left and bringing his unbraced hand up in defense of the incoming attack. His double seemed content to fight, and that was Buddingtonite's queue to flee. With a still injured arm and no will to fight, Buddingtonite was keen on flight or fight, and it seemed that his shade caught wind of that as he looked ready to pursue. "Very well, I see how it is. Good luck in catching me, because I have no intention of dying tonight! Farewell!"

There was a train coming, one that Buddingtonite knew would not stop at this station on this evening, and he was hoping that his double would be foolish enough to lean across the tracks at the right moment. He had seen people jump in front of trains before and while it wasn't pretty, it was certainly one way of allowing someone else to do his dirty work, or in the very least, slow it down while he found a safe place to teleport and power down. Return Serpentine's call and get to where his friend was before whatever troubled him did him in. It was all within the confectioner's mind, but the shade was not so easily fooled. He disappeared within a blink of an eye and Buddingtonite knew to look behind him, doing in time to throw himself out of the way of that curled fist. "Oh! Right! You can teleport, just like me... great!"

And it seemed that his doppelganger was quick to try and turn his own tactic against him, striking relentlessly and trying to push him closer and closer towards the tracks as the passenger train came barreling down the tracks. It was going fast, and if he had fallen in front of it, no doubt there'd be Buddingtonite chunks everywhere. Perhaps a painless death compared to presenting failure to Queen Metallia and the Negaverse, but one that he wasn't quite prepared to face, even with his weakened state of mind. He tried to teleport away, but his shade was persistent, grabbing the cloth at his neck and throwing him back towards the tracks every time he tried to escape, and teleporting with the shade clinging to him would have drained him. It was a brilliant tactic, but one not in his favor, and Buddingtonite could feel his heel fall back and hit air, letting him know that the shade had him right where he wanted him. A simple push had him dangling, his booted legs desperately clinging and scraping off the edge, and a strong hand gripping him, holding him in place and preventing him from the only means of escape he had available. And the train was getting closer and closer, its horn blaring to warn him of his impending doom. Within seconds the train would take him, and as merciful of a death that would have been compared to the fate that the Negaverse and this war had in store for him, he wasn't willing to accept death. Not here. Not against this opponent.

The train was mere seconds upon him when he made his decision, and he latched onto the arm that held him with tight fingers, hoping to not only anchor himself but dig into the flesh and cause his shade a single ounce of pain. There was a wince but nothing more, and against his better judgement, he teleported himself and his murderous doppelganger out of the train's path. How terrifying it would have been for that conductor to see two men suddenly disappear like that? Buddingtonite would have considered apologizing to him and spared him his energy and precious starseed for his troubles, but his mind was elsewhere, as was his body. He wasn't sure where he was, or where his shade was, for that matter, as his feet gave away and he fell onto cold, wet grass, free from his double's grip but too weakened from the ordeal to take full advantage of his freedom. He must have looked the part of a mouse that had somehow escaped the clutches of a hawk's talons and looked around, taking in his surroundings and looking for the predator, all the while scrambling to his feet and looking for some kind of escape or borrow to hide in.

He was free, but weak, vulnerable, to anyone and everything, and not a single part of him was enjoying this little adventure he found himself in. He had to escape. He had to find help, before he killed himself!

((Word Count: 1224))