The rat froze mid-step when he heard the clicking of the gun. He let them finish speaking, and for a moment, he said or did nothing. Then, he hung his head and gave a weary, almost disappointed sigh. Sticking his hands in his pockets in that oh-so-chill way, he turned to face the boar.

"You know, I tried to be nice. I really did. Even after your friend," he nodded his head at the prone serval/jackal, "attacked me with playing cards. I was patient. I was calm. I was doing my best to be amiable and amicable and other words that mean 'nice.' Gave you fair warning, told you to keep your heads down and you would be fine--that was the truth. I don't even mind this fine suit I'm wearing being dirtied to this shameful degree."

The mouse stared at the floor for a moment before continuing, "But now you're pointing a gun at me, and that really upsets me, a lot more than everything else has."

Despite the rumbling and clacking of the train and the whirring of the now-distant helicopter, if one listened closely, a faint unsteady beeping could be heard for a moment.

"So what, you're going to shoot me? Ask me some questions then shoot me? Or just waste my time, or what? My patience is running quite thin, monsieur. I suggest you make it quick."

Casey cocked his head back and arched his brow. "Son," he began in a rising tone, "to talk so much, you sure manage to say very little."

He stared in harsh evaluation for several seconds. Then, he actually raised the gun's sights off the mouse, bending his elbow and letting it aim toward the ceiling, relaxed. He then hiked his sagging pants back up with a quick tug and started forward.

"Never shot a man who didn't give me a good reason first," he quipped, "but I've sure laid hands on a few."

Crack went his one hand's knuckles as he trundled steadily toward the gabby suit.

"I talk too much?"

There was a rising indignation in the mouse's voice, yet he maintained a flat expression. But despite the lack of emotion in his face, it was still apparent that his fear was rising, as he began to back away, one slow step at a time, from the approaching burly man threatening to punch him through a wall. He only stopped when he heard Geoff speak from behind him, which caused him to whip around to face the green hedgehog, before quickly turning about again to face the much larger threat. He was clearly on-edge and tense, backed into a corner.

"Fine. I'll make this short then. Have you ever seen a phone call kill a bunch of people? If you don't want to see it, I suggest you back off quickly."

Those last few words were soaked with venomous anger. The rat's patience had run out, it seemed.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

"Already dialed it."

From his pocket, the suited man drew a simple, somewhat-outdated-looking cellular phone: Small, gray, cheap-looking, with only a small, barely-illuminated screen on it. It was clearly the source of the faint beeping from earlier, and the mouse held it above his head, thumb hovering over the big round button.

"One push, I send a signal to a bunch of lovely bombs I set down when I first got on this train--a fail-safe plan, you see--and the baggage car goes up in flames. Sure, I'm still here--but I prefer choosing my fate rather than letting you people do that for me. Now I must ask: does letting me go seem so difficult now?"

Casey aimed his gun again the instant the mouse threatened their lives, whether it was with a phone or not. In his book, that was sufficient reason to shoot a man, whether it was a thing he liked to do or not.

When the first beep he was able to hear actually reached his ears, there was a split second of hesitation. Casey did not like doing things like this.

The second beep came, and was drowned out by a high-caliber rifle round blast exploding out of the barrel of his gunarm, right at the mouse's midsection.




It missed by inches. It was... a gut check?

"That's my first 'objection.' My second one won't miss, brother."

The rat was frozen in pose, but his expression gradually shifted from "stern hard-ass" to "horrified." His jaw hung open, and if one looked closely, his steady hands were suddenly trembling.

He stood this way for a few quiet, suffocating seconds.

He blinked.

"You are a hard negotiator."

In a flash, the rat ducked his head and made an about face, heading right for the door--and Geoff. But what was most important was the fact he had thrown the phone behind himself, sending the device flying back, spinning through the air down the center of the car, into the most empty section. Before anyone could react and lunge for it, it bounced off the floor facing downward.

It beeped, a sound that echoed through the car.

Meanwhile, the mouse had been aiming for what little space was between Geoff and the open door. Despite being on the wiry side, at the sudden speed he was rushing towards him, it was definitely enough to shoulder-shove the green hedgehog just far enough to give the suit a clear line for the outside. Without a stumble or pause, he jumped towards the cargo car, and immediately bounded up the side, finding footholds and grips with ease and practically throwing himself to the top, where he rolled to his feet and took off running towards the caboose.

Casey's glare hardened with a certain satisfaction at the mouse's fearful reaction.

Then they squinted just a little. Then bulged. The guy had thrown his phone and ran. What if—

"IT'S GONNA BLOWWW!"

Okay, he could have handled it in a more orderly, less riotous fashion, but he didn't. Instead, he charged right up beside Ember, and, right while she was addressing Latika, shut the trunk and hefted it straight up on his shoulder, loris and all. He apparently knew Latika for just long enough to know that "moving fast" was not an ability in her repertoire.

"Run run run! Toward the front of the train!" he barked as he barreled out he front door of the baggage car, hopped the gap, and very nearly smashed in through the rear door of the passenger car. The next sequence was an awkward and terrible one, and one for which Latika should have been glad she was in a trunk: Casey attempted to barrel down a three-or-so-foot-wide corridor as fast as he physically could while carrying big, bulky cargo on his shoulder. This meant he basically smashed out windows, put dents in the wall, accidentally burst a couple compartment doors off their hinges, and all but destroyed and bulged the walls outward as he charged in sheer adrenaline-driven imminent-explosion-evading panic.

"Train's too flippin' small!" Casey shouted back at Geoff just as he coincidentally got snagged on an open doorway. This probably caused the hedgehog to run into him from behind, unless he was being especially careful. They were just as soon on the move again, before finally stopping at what was presumably Casey's compartment. He must have figured it was far enough away to be safe, because he rammed his way in through the door, dropped the trunk on one of the seats (and opened it, for Latika's sake), and waited tensely, clutching at the luggage rack overhead and one of the walls to brace himself for what he thought would be an inevitably earth-shaking boom.

"We're stayin' in here, Latika," he explained as calmly as he could manage, through some huffing and puffing. "It's— dangerous back there."

...

Still wasn't happening. No boom yet.

"...?"

He looked around quizzically.