You breathed deeply as you reached up to the overhead compartments, grabbing the backpack that was sat inside the one above your seat, tugging on it forcefully, though bracing yourself as not to topple backwards. The last thing you wanted to do was fall atop the cake that sat atop the table, to have to deal with these lowlife humans with your back covered in icing, cream and crumbs. You quickly unfastened the buckles that kept the pack closed, pulling it open as you grabbed one of your revolvers and a bag of ammunition.
"You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to deal with every bad situation that comes along. We could just sit it out, we could make it clear that they'd be making a mistake if they tried to take anything from us. You don't need to risk getting hurt," Anne stated as she watched you checking the ammunition, before you set about loading it into the cylinder. She could see that you were set on this, that you were ready to risk this, despite how you had much longer recovery times than she did, than the Enlightened did.
You didn't answer at first, instead finishing loading the gun, putting the small bag of ammunition in your pocket as you found yourself wishing you had time to prepare, time to load extra cylinders, time to prepare ammunition in a belt. "Maybe I do not have to, but, what is to say that they will not stop at murder to ensure that their pockets are filled?"
"So, you're planning to take them on, all alone?"
"I am."
"There's more of them than you, you think you can kill them and walk back in here unscathed?" Anne asked, her voice filled with emotion, the fear that you could read in it betraying how she wanted desperately to talk you down. The emotion was touching, but it was the wrong time and place for it as you had taken it upon yourself to ensure the safety of those aboard the train.
"I don't plan to kill them."
Anne stared at you in disbelief, a stare that you knew persisted as you turned to leave the room, as you headed towards the door of the carriage. You knew that you needed a vantage point, that you needed to stare these men down, that you needed to make them feel very afraid. You needed to make them believe that carrying out this attack was the worst thing that they could do. You opened the door that lead between carriages, though instead of stepping into another you grabbed hold of the ladder leading up, hauling yourself upwards, sliding onto the roof of the train carriage.
You stood, looking down over the side of the train as you sized the men up quickly, figuring that the one at the front was the leader due to how he was the largest of them and the most confident. You raised your gun, pointing it skyward as you stood there, as you gazed down at these men, as you focused on actively instead of passively influencing them. You wanted them to feel afraid, you wanted them to believe that pressing on with this would be the death of them.
It very well could be, though you didn't wish to have to get into a gun battle if you could avoid it.
The man that you took to be the leader looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, yours staring back into his without the slightest hint of fear, with your body language showing off how you were supremely confident. You felt like a god on high, like divity ready to shock and awe heathen mortals.
You felt supremely powerful.
You felt unstoppable.
Your own nature was affecting you, making you feel more than just a man, more than the figure who had been battered and beaten, shot and stabbed, forced to endure lengthy recovery. You felt like an unstoppable force of divinity, and these foolish mortals were going to bow before you, or suffer your wrath. You could see the fear in their eyes, you could see the way that they faltered, how none of them wanted to be the first in your way. You could see, though not clearly hear as they shouted to each other, as one of them, likely their sharpshooter was told to deal with you.
As he reached for and raised his gun, your flicked your arm down, a single shot fired off as the man's muffled cry of pain and suprise reached you, even over the roar of the wind, over the steady puffing of the train. The man's gun went sailing from his hand, shot from it with what had appeared to be relative ease.
Panic rippled through their ranks, as the majority of them peeled away, the more cowardly of them turning down one of the dirt paths that lead away from the tracks, wanting nothing more than to get away from you. The leader however, must have had nerves of steel, as he pushed his horse to the side of the train, his horse briefly concealed from view before it appeared again, this time riderless. He had leapt aboard, that you quickly discovered was so he could challenge you himself.
He clambered atop the carriage, giving you a proper glimpse of his face now as he pulled the scarf that concealed it away. He was a large man, a man with short brown hair and a short beard that hung in twin braids, a man who despite the fear in his eyes had come to challenge you alone. It was a mixture of pride and determination that had him resisting the manner in what you had influenced him, determination to be the one that faced you, to show the his men up as cowards. He wasn't a typical bully, that meant that he at least deserved something better than simply being shot and kicked from atop the roof.
You slid the gun into the back of your trousers after ensuring that the safety was on, turning to face the man as you took a fighting stance, as you readied yourself. No sooner had he managed to find his footing atop the train did he charge you, running along the roof of the train as he attempted to tackle you, though you were fast to step aside, grabbing him as you used his form to swing around, to avoid this precarious manouver allowing him to merely bat you off the side of the train at an opportune moment.
As you swung him about you brought a foot up, kicking him backwards as you hopped away from him, causing him to topple down atop the roof of the train. He was far from done though, not ready to run with his tail between his legs, not prepared to give up merely because you had the upper hand. He slid towards you as he swept his foot low, though you were fast to hop over it, hopping forward bringing your knee forward as you slammed it into his face.
He had anticipated this and he was ready to catch you off guard.
What he hadn't expected was that you were a lot tougher than you looked.
As his fist slammed into your crotch you staggered backward, hissing, before twirling about as you delivered a forceful kick to his face as it presented you with an easy target. The speed of the kick, along with how the expected advantage he should have gained over you never materialising had him unable to react in time.
He tumbled to the side, slipping off the roof of the carriage, his hands catching on the edge of it as he struggled to hold on, as his feet kicked in futility, in an attempt to find a foothold. That fear in his eyes was redoubled as you paced towards the edge, as you paced towards him, as you looked down at him. Blood poured from his nose and from where his lip had split, he was disorientated from the force of the blows you had dealt to his face and he was vulnerable.
He was helpless as he looked up at you expectantly, as he waited for you to kick him from the side of the train or to finish him off with a round from your revolver. He was helpless, beaten, at your mercy, and it was up to you to decide his fate. What was it to be?
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Topic: They told me I could be anything... (Read 78952 times)