In the blacks and sitting upon her cape, torn between the sleep she wanted and the rocking, bucking of the train, staring out the window into the dark Seattle horizon. The Portlan job had been tough, too close for the bolt action, and her HAR sitting in the top shelf right above her in the cabin. Expensive as it had been, it was worth it for the silence, and the lack of little kids running around kickin' each other in the shins. Too many shots fired because some holier than thou security guard just had to put the pride of his job on the line. There was just enough money in the job to keep her going for a few weeks, maybe long enough to consider working a mob hit... or three, they were always safe bets. And that was when her comfortable trip was shattered by the staccato of gunfire from all sides of the train. She swore, she really did, as she keyed in her commlink for the open wave, even as she demanded to herself not to get involved.
Talk of clowns and murdering kids though rather put that to bed quite quickly though, and while her blood boiled away beneath her skin in the lone cabin she switched off the lights and slipped a one-hole balaclava over the top of her head, and shifting to draw the hidden sidearm and screwing the suppressor onto it. And then a clown passed her by on the train, slowly, looking into the windows of the cabins, probably for loot to knick. She hadn't charged and the bastard would hear it. The door was flimsy at best so without further thought she put the boot to it and sent pieces of it shattering all over him. Blows were exchanged, the damn orc clown was tough. By the end of it, the cabin was a mess, as anything and everything had been used as a weapon, so whatever thoughts she had of laying low still remaining were quelled rapidly. A swift boot to the head to make *sure* he was down, and she went for the marksman rifle in the sports bag, while opening up on the security channel specifically, since there still seemed to be a coordinated defence.
"Uh, check... This is Intervention, Car 8. I hear you guys might want some help. Dropped an orc clown in my car, I'll bill ya for him," she joked, continuing, slapping the magazine into the HAR and yanking the charge handle right back and slinging it across her back before moving for the second weapon in the bag, the huge sniper rifle which got it's magazine as well, and the action worked before it was slung as well. Drawing the AR and screwing the suppressor to it. "Unless you want me to go back to sleep, I'm heading rearward for the RV. Intervention, over."
