He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Making a strategic withdrawal into a tunnel, luring in the rest of the elite squadron that pursued him to pick them off two or three at a time now that they were forced into tighter quarters. He had not heard the sound of the train from far off, and figured he had the time to keep running, slash a few soldiers, put some distance between them, and repeat.
The tunnel was deceptively longer than he presumed.
He ducked beneath the spray of incoming bullets before making a horizontal slash, Rihatsu cleaving through the last few of his pursuers. That's when he heard the whistle, and noticed his shadow on the tracks in front of him. He turned to look over his shoulder, weighing his options.
He could stop an 18-wheeler... a train was only, what, ten-fold the size of one of the behemoth trucks? He sheathed Rihatsu onto her scabbard on his back, and braced himself, hands held out in front of him.
He was actually glad for his partial deafness when the almighty screech of metal on metal rang out, forced against it's will to come to a complete halt. He drew back his hands, his palms smoking, and flopping at weird tell-tale directions of being completely broken.
"...That... went better than expected..."
| hero | Samurai |
|---|---|
| villain | Train |
| goal | Survival |