Sprout's fear turned to sadness as his friends offered themselves up in exchange for his safety. He was nothing more than a bargaining chip...
"Now these dear people have places to be! Let's be on our way shall we?"
As the men discussed their terms Sprout's despair morphed into anger. How dare they treat him like some kind of prize! Did they even realize that he was there?! That he had a voice!?
Sprout scowled as he shouted, "I may not know who'da fuck you are, Mister, but I don't need Ma' to fight my battles. You may'a gotten the drop on me, but I bet you ain't so tough out in the open. Ya know, not fightn' like a pussy! Mano-a-mano."
Elizabeth looked to the flustered man leveling a gun at the nobles. His erratic motions were terrifying the passengers. She took a few steps forward as she spoke, "Please Sir, you're scaring my fellows with your behavior. We would not be so foolish as to try and run from this. You can relax, as your attempts to calm them have only proven to further their anxiety."
As she attempted to reason with Aesop a well dressed, thin man near the front of the train (opposite the bandits) jumped up for his seat and headed for the door, "I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! YOU IDIOTS CAN ALL KILL EACH OTHER FOR ALL I CARE!"
You fool! You'll kill us all!
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The bandito's large frame went a long way in concealing the man's speed. It was clear he'd had his fair share of knife fights and had likely never lost one. The thought only served to invigorate Pixie further. Hers would be the last blade his flesh would ever taste.
Pixie avoided his initial assault, weaving in and out of a swift flurry of stabs. He was fast, but she was faster. Back peddling, she waited for him to make a mistake. And in a fraction of a second, she found her opening. Thinking he had her, he had put just a bit too much power behind his last blow, leaving him exposed as he drew back his blade in surprise. As he recovered she countered, lunging forward with a barrage of her own.
He had dodged better than expected, though Pixie managed to cut a clean slice across his rib cage before he staggered out of range, "Not enough finesse, amigo. I reckon yer stronger than'n ox, but that won't do ya' any good if--" She ended her taunt prematurely as the man threw himself at her in a reckless gambit to overwhelm her. Her knife buried itself in his thigh as he came down on her. The sudden, excruciating pain had caused him to lose his grip on his own blade, but he still had enough control to crush Pixie's shoulder with his elbow.
Pixie crashed down against the ash and before she could recover, was lifted up off the ground. The man's massive hand managed to grasp the entirety of her face as he threw her limp body up against the hull of the wrecked crawler. A loose, jagged edge of the crawler pierced her forearm and warm, dark blood began to seep from the wound. The bandito said nothing as he pinned her against the crawler and slid his hands down onto her throat in an attempt to strangle her with his superior might.
Unfortunately for him, however, he had not been holding her at arms' length. In fact, he was up close and very personal. Just what Pixie needed. She grabbed hold of his wrists--as per strangle victim protocol--and swung her legs up, crossing them as they wrapped themselves around his neck. Her muscles tensed up and twisted as she sent the man toppling forward, busting his face against the ashcrawler. Pixie's size did not do her strength justice it seemed.
Pixie stumbled across the ash and grasped at her throat. The pain was nothing to her and would take but a moment to recover from. Still groggy and disoriented from the sudden collision, the man struggled to lift himself out of the wrecked vehicle, giving Pixie enough time to pick his knife up off the ground, "It's time ta' carve you up, son."
A dastardly grin shone on her face as she moved in for the kill.
