Wednesday, May 29, 2019
Ned, Brad, and Mark made their way to the underground train station. They walked inside and headed down the stairs. It was 11 a.m., and the station was bustling with people from different backgrounds, all engaged in their own activities.
Some were on their phones, others were talking, eating, or simply waiting. The three of them stood by, waiting for the train to arrive.
Ned turned to Brad and asked, "Why do we need to take a train? Is the place that far?"
Brad shrugged. "Yeah, it's really far, actually. And I'm too lazy to walk there. Besides, why waste our energy, right?"
Ned nodded. "Oh, you're right."
They fell silent again. The only sounds came from the chatter of the crowd, the tapping of footsteps, and the occasional ringtone from someone's phone.
Ned's mind drifted into boredom. He stood there blankly, barely acknowledging his surroundings. His vision blurred slightly, and a wave of drowsiness washed over him.
Suddenly, Mark pressed a hand on Ned's shoulder. Ned flinched slightly but didn't react much.
"What's the matter?" Ned asked.
Mark pointed at something in the distance. "Look over there."
Curious, Ned turned his head in the direction Mark was pointing.
There, among the crowd, stood a figure that immediately caught his attention. The person was dressed in tattered black clothing—a ripped jacket, worn-out pants, and a black mask covering their head. The ragged appearance resembled that of a homeless person, but there was something off. Both of the figure's arms were covered in some kind of armored gauntlets, with sharp edges at the ends.
Brad noticed him too and let out a small chuckle. "What's with that homeless guy?"
Before they could dwell on it further, the train finally arrived. The speakers crackled as the automated announcement echoed through the station. Despite the unusual appearance of the black-clothed figure, the crowd seemed unfazed, paying no attention as they stepped inside the train.
Ned, Brad, and Mark entered as well, still keeping an eye on the strange figure. He boarded too, but in a different wagon. The three of them, however, had bigger things to worry about. They were focused on their mission.
As they stepped inside, the doors shut behind them, and the train began moving.
For a few minutes, everything was normal. People went about their business, some scrolling through their phones, others talking quietly.
Then, an explosion.
A deafening BOOM shook the train. The sound came from one of the wagons, possibly the driver's cabin. Panic spread instantly.
The train's speaker screeched with static before a voice took over.
"This train has now been hijacked by the Walrus Gang. All passengers, hand over your valuables, or we will kill you," the voice declared firmly.
A group of men, who had been sitting or standing like regular passengers moments ago, suddenly pulled out firearms and aimed them at the crowd—including Ned, Brad, and Mark.
Brad frowned. "Walrus? Never heard of them."
Mark kept his voice low. "Maybe they're a newly formed gang. Just do what they say for now."
Ned hesitated but reluctantly followed Mark's advice. The three of them raised their hands, along with the rest of the terrified passengers. People began throwing their wallets, phones, and other valuables toward the armed men. Cries of fear and panic filled the air.
Mark, Ned, and Brad remained silent. Then, without drawing attention, Mark subtly dropped something onto the floor—a small, metallic device.
A moment later, thick smoke erupted from it, rapidly filling the wagon.
The hijackers coughed and stumbled, their vision obscured by the smoke. Confusion spread among them as they tried to wave it away.
Suddenly, Brad burst through the smoke, his leg raised high. One of the hijackers barely had time to react before Brad's kick slammed into his stomach, sending him flying backward into the train door, which bent open under the impact.
The remaining hijackers panicked and tried to pull their triggers, but before they could, Ned appeared from the smoke and tased one of them. Mark followed up with a sharp kick to the side of another attacker's face.
With the element of surprise on their side, they quickly took down the rest. Brad swung his metal bat, knocking out multiple hijackers at once.
Within moments, all the attackers lay unconscious.
The passengers stared in shock as the scene unfolded.
Brad wiped some sweat off his forehead and turned to Ned and Mark. "We need to get to the train driver's cabin," he said firmly.
Both of them nodded, and they rushed forward.
However, before they could advance further, a figure stepped into their path.
A man in a suit, wearing a white smiling mask.
In his left hand, he held a set of playing cards. Without a word, he flicked his wrist, sending three cards flying at Ned, Brad, and Mark at blinding speed.
The cards slashed their faces, leaving shallow cuts.
The masked man prepared to throw more, but Brad was already charging at him, sprinting with incredible speed. He leaped into the air, raising his bat for a downward strike.
But the masked man effortlessly blocked it. With a single card.
Brad's eyes widened in shock. "That's not an ordinary card, is it?" he muttered, letting out a nervous chuckle. A few drops of sweat trickled down his face.
The impact of Brad's bat against the card caused a spark, as if striking metal.
Brad gritted his teeth. "You two! Get to the driver's cabin! I'll handle this guy," he ordered with a smirk.
Ned and Mark hesitated for only a second before nodding and sprinting past the battle, dodging more armed gang members along the way. They fought off any attackers that got in their way, steadily making their way toward the front of the train.
They arrived at the second-to-last wagon before the train driver's cabin. As the door slid open, they were met with a horrifying sight.
Blood covered the walls. Severed body parts lay scattered across the floor. The gruesome scene was enough to make an ordinary person faint or vomit.
Amidst the carnage stood the black-clothed figure from before.
At first, Ned and Mark thought he had slaughtered the passengers. But then they noticed something—the mutilated bodies all had the same tattoo on their backs. A walrus.
The attackers.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Ned wondered.
Before he could think any further, Mark and the black-clothed figure lunged at each other at lightning speed. Their fists clashed, both blocking each other's attacks effortlessly.
Mark threw a kick—countered by another kick.
Mark's mind raced. This guy knows martial arts.
Not just that—his style was aggressive, focused entirely on attack.
Mark flipped into a handstand, aiming for a spinning kick. The black-clothed figure mirrored the move exactly, matching him strike for strike. Their legs collided in mid-air, the impact sending shockwaves through the wagon.
Realizing this fight would go nowhere, Mark flipped back onto his feet, preparing to switch tactics. But his opponent did something unexpected—he jumped mid-air from the handstand, spun, and delivered a crushing downward punch.
Mark barely dodged in time, stepping backward just as the fist smashed into the floor, denting the metal.
The two fighters stood face-to-face, neither backing down. They exchanged rapid blows, blocking and countering each strike. The black-clothed figure's armored gauntlets gave him an advantage—his attacks were not only fast but also razor-sharp.
Ned realized the fight would take too long. Without hesitation, he sprinted past them, kicking open the door to the train driver's cabin.
Pain shot through his leg from the force, but he ignored it. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.
The train driver was dead.
Beside him lay another corpse—a gang member, wearing a black mask with a walrus emblem. A bullet hole was in his head, a gun still clutched in his lifeless hand.
And then Ned saw it.
A massive bomb.
30-second timer.
"Shit."
The train was still speeding forward—toward an unfinished railway section under construction. If they didn't stop it now, everyone was dead.
Ned grabbed the emergency brake switch and pulled with everything he had. His veins bulged, his teeth clenched, adrenaline pumping through his body.
It wouldn't budge.
Suddenly, from behind him, Brad's voice rang out.
"MOVE ASIDE! LET'S DO THIS!"
Brad grabbed the brake alongside Ned. Together, they pulled with all their might. Their muscles burned, sweat dripped down their faces.
The brake finally budged.
The train slowed—inch by inch—until, at the very last second, it screeched to a halt at a station.
Both Ned and Brad collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, their arms trembling violently from the strain.
Meanwhile, behind them, Mark and the black-clothed figure stood still, staring at each other. Then, without a word, the mysterious man turned, punched open the door, and exited the train.
Ned, still panting, grabbed the train's speaker and yelled, "GET OUT NOW! THERE'S A BOMB! THE ATTACKERS ARE ALL DOWN!"
Mark rushed toward them. "COME ON! WE GOTTA MOVE!"
Despite their shaking legs, Ned and Brad forced themselves up and ran.
Passengers screamed and scrambled for the exits. Some were crying, some tripped and fell, but everyone ran for their lives.
Ned, Mark, and Brad sprinted alongside them, ignoring their exhaustion.
They had only made it halfway out of the station when—
BOOM.
A massive explosion rocked the entire area.
Even from a distance, the shockwave flung them forward, sending them rolling across the pavement.
Luckily, they had made it far enough. They survived.
Coughing and groaning, they forced themselves up once more, barely able to stand.
Behind them, the train burned—a fiery wreck, completely destroyed.
Without looking back, the three of them ran toward safety, leaving the burning train behind.