All Aboard the Fastest Spanish Train
All Aboard the Fastest Spanish Train
Chapter 1 – The Departure That Wasn’t Meant to Be
Madrid Atocha Station was alive with a symphony of sound: screeching luggage wheels, chatter in a dozen languages, and the echo of a tannoy voice that sounded like a flamenco singer announcing train delays.
Sgt. Salty leaned against a vending machine, chewing on a toothpick like a man who’d seen too much railway drama in his time. He wasn’t here for sightseeing — this was a mission. Somewhere between Madrid and Barcelona, on the fastest train in Spain, a package was being transported under top-level secrecy. Salty had to get on that train before it left… or before they did.
Behind him, Ye Olde Large Lad arrived puffing, clutching a suitcase that looked ready to explode — not with bombs, but with churros. “Mate,” Large Lad gasped, “if we miss this train, you owe me three breakfasts.”
Meanwhile, Sarah and Susan appeared dressed like they were about to board a luxury yacht instead of a train, sunglasses on, bags swinging, causing every tourist in the station to trip over themselves. WhizzAir Winky, their hyperactive gadget guy, zipped past on a foldable scooter, yelling, “Two minutes ‘til departure! This thing’s got no brakes!”
The tannoy crackled:
“Passengers for AVE 0509 to Barcelona, please board immediately…”
They sprinted — weaving past families, businessmen, and a street performer dressed as a golden bullfighter. But as they reached the platform, Sgt. Salty’s sharp eyes caught something suspicious: a tall man in a dark coat, boarding early and clutching a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. His face? Recognisable. His name? Whining Cole — the first of Ron Beefmaster’s cronies.
The whistle blew. The doors started to close. And in that split second, Salty had to decide — barge in guns blazing, or board like an innocent passenger and play the long game?
He stepped forward, tipping his cap to the guard, and whispered to his team:
“Buckle up. This is going to be one hell of a ride.”


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