BRATATAT

Without warning, a duo of loud popping noises suddenly interrupted the (un)friendly powwow the bunch was having in the direction of the caboose. It caused a long, painfully awkward silence. The kind where you freeze in place for a few good minutes until you either hear something else, or get wise and get while the going's good. Fortunately for everyone there, it only took a few seconds for that follow up to come.

Ace's ears perked, and his eyes, quite suddenly as sharp and alert as ever, darted in the direction of the train's rear.

"..."

BRATAT

He immediately turned his attention back to the rat. His face didn't look friendly.

---

An ominous looking individual, clad in a snow-camo BDU and matching balaclava climbed his way to the top of the train from inside the caboose. He bore a small submachine gun and a nasty look about him, tracking mud and snow on the roof. His mask managed to hide any identifying features about his face, or even species. Then, came another just like him. Then two more. Then two more. Finally, there was a grand total of ten of these people, all holding the same firearm, all wearing the same uniforms. The last one to leave had the stain of recently spilled blood on him.

"蠢货!" one hissed, elbowing him in his flak-jacketed side. "是您设法破坏这操作!?" The bloody one grunted with a short, seemingly ashamed bow of his head, wincing at the wind and snow in his eyes.

Inside the car they stood on, one of the train workers lay in a small pool of red, surrounded by terrified co-workers leaning against the wall and stifling their screams.

The armed men marched forward, hopping the cars while braving the harsh weather as they could.

A madman was pointing a spear at him and screaming. Guns were firing. The yellow cat looked very angry.

This combination wiped the relaxed disposition off the mouse's face, replaced with a somewhat unnerved one. Defensively, he raised his hands in front of him, as if that would shield him from suspicion.

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but if you think I have anything do with that--whatever it was!--you're sorely mistaken. I'm just a traveling businessman. I even bought myself a ticket, so don't go acting like I'm a villain here."

That glint of fear suddenly disappeared when he finished that sentence, replaced by anger. "If anyone here is some kind of bad guy, I'd say it's you! Stowaways on board the train, planning on mugging the passengers, is that your plan? Maybe I should go start screaming to the rest of the passengers and the engineers, have them call for help, and stop your plan, eh?!" he accused, pointing a finger at the group. Still, he retreated a single step back into the passenger car.

An attendant on the train slid open the door to the final passenger car, adjusting his name tag. In his hand was a little hole puncher. Unmistakably a deer, with those majestic horns. He walked down the aisle, stopping at every seating area that had people inside.

"Tickets please..."

He requested, and of course would make little punches in peoples tickets and hand them back. However, halfway through the car, his ears perked and his eyes moved toward the back of the train as he froze for a moment... Gunfire.

"Don't panic." He said to the passengers, selling the part of being a member of train staff, "Don't panic, people! Stay in your seats!" He yelled as he made his way toward the back, continuing toward the first baggage car.

For all his mixed amusement and horror at the fact that he had unintentionally swiped some porter girl from her home, the sentiment was fragile and did not last long; Casey's face hardened immediately at the pop of faraway gunfire. "Stay right here," he rumbled lowly to the loris. Suddenly looking all too serious, he completely ignored all the fuss that was going on in the baggage car itself and strode past everyone to the rear door, opened it up, and peered outside.

Not much to see from right there except the passing scenery, whipping by along with the fiercely cold breeze, and the bare front end of a freight car. It had a skinny door (locked, of course) and a ladder.

The boar glanced back. It looked like he was going to say something, but, given all the chaos and confusion already present, he must have thought better of it, because he instead silently stepped out, carefully walked across to the freight car, grasped its ladder in his one hand, and hauled himself up.

He peeked over the top carefully.

"Ffffffor cryin' out loud," he garbled quietly at the sight of the men atop the train. They were quite a few cars back, but it was easy to tell what was going on.

... Sort of. They could have been train robbers or soldiers. This one possibility was what tripped him up and made him glance back and forth anxiously. For a second he started to raise up and level his gunarm, but then he backed down just as quickly. "Damnitall!"

Finally, hanging there on the ladder in limbo, he yelled back: "Train's under attack! Everybody stay put!"

Little did he know how few would heed him.

"Yes, listen to the man! If we're being attacked, we should all work together and bunker down away from whoever is attacking!" the rodent fervently agreed, still maintaining his defensive posture. But he did approach closer, stepping to the edge of the passenger car, leaning out the door frame. "They have guns, we don't--well, he does, but they have more guns! No one needs to get killed, just hide and cover your head and I'm sure that we'll all be fine!"

Talking made him feel a little more confident, it seemed, as he began to lower his hands. He took a breath and continued, sounding much more calm, "Just...trust me on this, please? I've traveled a lot around these parts, and these kind of people only want money, not lives. You all look as foreign to his place as I am, but I've been here for some time and I understand how these things work. Keep calm, stay down, and no one ends up hurt."

His arms hanging by his sides again, the mouse stood in between the cars, looking a lot more firm and composed than he did just a moment ago. His right hand nervously fumbled with the bottom edge of his suit jacket, but that was the only indication that he was stressed at all now.

Just one freight car away, a roof hatch slid gratingly and clanked open. The suspicious-looking individuals the group had seen earlier—the men in long, shabby coats, with scarves over their faces—bounded out, their own weapons in hand. They seemed less organized than the others, mismatched in their attire and their equipment (two of the three didn't even have a visible weapon, and the one who did seemed to be wielding some sort of energy cannon torn off of an Eggman robot), but they were no less confident than the attacking group.

The spearhead of the trio, presumably some kind of bear (judging by his short, round ears and large build), lowered his center of gravity and stood there, as if just waiting to be shot at for some inconceivable reason.

After passing through the last passenger car, he would seem to be home free. With the exception of random gunfire. That was kind of an unexpected twist. He brought a hand to his ear.

"I heard gunfire. I don't think we're th-" He stopped mid-sentence as he slid the door to the next baggage car open, "*ehem*" There was a small gaggle of stowaways. His eyes darted around. They seemed unarmed for the most part. No dead bodies either. He glanced down at his name tag, adjusted it a bit more before moving further into the car, looking around at the stowaways. How does one approach a situation like this, anyways?

"Hey.. What do you think you're doing here? This area is off-limits." He motioned in the direction from which he came, trying to put on an air of confidence. He cleared his throat, glancing back, then at them, "Do you even have tickets?"

The stowaways weren't the only ones growing confused and frustrated with the hectic situation. It showed on the suited mouse as well, his brow furrowing over his shades and his mouth tensely shifting into an irritated frown. His hands balled up into fists, and he boldly hopped the divide between the two cars, landing him right on the edge of the baggage car and tightly catching the frame of the door for balance. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands underneath. He stood there just a couple feet away from that very pointy spear pointed at him.

"I don't think I appreciate this attitude I'm receiving..." he half-growled through his teeth. "I just don't want to see anyone get hurt, and from where I stand, a few of you look like the dumb stubborn kind, the kind that run off and get shot. I...really don't want that to happen."

He sighed loudly, as if he was trying to physically dispel his growing aggravation. When he continued, he sounded calmer again. "Listen...I've seen a lot of things in my time, and I've come to understand a great deal of those things. This is one of them. This is a dangerous situation, but I know that if everyone keeps their heads down, everything will be just fine."

He raised a hand to adjust his sunglasses, but they did not reveal his eyes for even a moment.

"I don't see why you doubt me so much. I mean, I haven't done anything wrong. For all you know, I'm a government agent sent to put a stop to whatever criminal act that is occurring here. If that were the case, then obviously I would be performing my utmost duty to ensure the safety of civilians and minimize the damage caused." His words had a coating of biting sarcasm, but his calm, stock-still demeanor implied he was still being quite serious.

"Honestly, you all act more afraid of me than a band of children would..." he muttered.

The squad, for all intents and purposes, wasted little time identifying the opposing forces, and acting accordingly. A proverbial hail of gunfire whizzed forward, the brunt of them landing on the bear's hide as per his wishes(?), while several attackers to the side focused on the other individuals. Their success was debatable, however. Between the whipping winds, falling snow, and most of all, the rocking and winding of the train itself, the attackers had their work cut out for them. But they also had lots, and lots of bullets to spare.


In all this din and bedlam surrounding everyone, in this single little train car, packed with so many people, and every one of them trying to speak louder than the other, it only seemed like a matter of time before somebody just started screaming out loud. But Ace could have just as much effect, when he looked the rat man straight in the eyes as if his shades weren't even there, and spoke as accusingly as if he'd hit the checkmate:

"...You slipped."

Even as the cat took ominous steps in his direction, he snapped his gaze toward the hedgehog of the bunch, a great deal more awake than he seemed to be moments before. "Geoff, don't waste any time; Armor up and get out there. If there's too much, just come back down and tell us what you saw, an' we'll plan from there." His sights set back on the new guy-- the rat, not the deer (he didn't seem to pose any threat). "I'll catch up after I ask Secret Agent Scrawny here just how many more guns they have than us."

Innocent or not, it probably wouldn't be long before mystery man wouldn't have much time to move out of the way.

The deer conductor stared at Desmond for a moment or two after he spoke, at a loss for words, but finally he just came out with whatever was on his mind, which formed as:

"What the hell are you saying?"

Completely rhetorical, of course. He knew what he was saying. It just didn't make much sense at face value. He shook his head, then at the others who didn't seem to give his existance much thought. That's just insulting. Understandably however, they seemed to be more interested in what was going on roof-level.

Not him, though. If he could slip beyond notice, all the better, "Whatever. As you were." He waved dismissively toward Desmond before making his way toward the other side of the car, and slid open the door. Assuming no one stopped him, he'd slide the door closed behind himself.

"Tracer, you still there? There's trouble. Seems we're not the only ones after this thing. There's a fight on the roof."

He moved across to the next car, which according to intel was the car which held the item that everyone seemed hellbent on obtaining -- which was reason enough to obtain it first. Sadly, the door was locked. He was stuck between the two cars, lest he put himself in the danger zone.

OOC:
https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1Rq0 ... vMvrI/edit

DOUBLE EDIT: Ben clarified. Disregard!

The hail of small-caliber gunfire deflected harmlessly a couple feet before it reached the bear or either of his comrades. A spherical field came into clearer view on impact, encapsulating him entirely, and standing wide enough to mostly protect his allies, as well.

The guy to his left flank (of indeterminate species, though he was bright green and had very long, pointy ears) unloaded on them with his peculiar, jury-rigged energy gun. It thudded and "boomped" loudly, flashing as orb-shaped blasts thundered out, streaking almost as fast as bullets across the top of the train. The rate of fire was slow, though, and his accuracy didn't seem to be the best, probably because of the extreme wind and moving, jostling train.

There was definitely some stolen Eggman weaponry in play here.