“Violence is born of the desire to escape oneself.”

Iris Murdoch

They found him sooner than he expected.

He’d barely made it out of the city when the two men got on the train. He was sitting in an empty carriage heading southeast on the local lines, a randomly chosen path, so he had no idea how they had caught up with him. His chair was in the dead centre of the car, facing forward and flanked both front and rear by other seats.

One man boarded at either end of the graffiti-strewn, threadbare rail car, positioning themselves to block any chance of escape. They stood there, staring ahead with their hands clasped in front as the train pulled out of the station.

Trials had barely had time to calculate his chances against the two, which he decided were good, when another pair strode in at either end. The train rocked and rattled as four figures strode slowly down towards him, leaving one individual at either end.

Trials didn’t recognise any of them. The Ministry must be using hired help these days. Still, it was worth a shot.

“You Ministry men, or Matthews’ bruisers? ‘Cos if you’re with the Ministry, I’ve got bad news for you; it’s been corrupted. I’m not your enemy,” he said aloud.

The men said nothing, but continued their steady advance.

“So, hired goons then. Damn.”

He ducked down and span around, firing first at the men approaching from behind, looking for the element of surprise. He got off three rounds in quick succession, two missing but the last round hitting one of the men near the top of his chest.

These guys were fast, too. They drew their pistols and returned fire almost instantly, and one managed to hit Trials in the upper-left back from behind.

Trials dropped down between the chairs, out of sight of the attackers, where he braced himself. They would be on him any second.

The first guy was foolish, racing up to the chairs with pistol extended in the hope of getting Trials with a few quick shots. Trials launched himself the instant the man appeared, knocking the man back into the seats across the aisle and buckling his legs. Before the man had finished falling Trials was up and disarming his partner, who had had the sense to advance cautiously. Not cautiously enough, though, and Trials grabbed his pistol hand and snapped it upwards, pulling it up over his shoulder as he spun to face the opposite direction. The man’s pistol fired off several rounds that flew wildly over his fellow attacker’s heads, forcing them to dive for cover between the seats.

Trials smashed an elbow backwards into the man’s chest and crushed the hand holding the pistol, forcing the hand to release it. The gun fell to the floor and rolled away as Trials turned once more to deliver a knock-out blow to the falling man’s head.

Trials stood there, a little shocked. Had that really just happened?

There was no time to think now. The other two were already clambering up, now using the seats for cover in the same way Trials had… seconds?... before. Trials could see their eyes widen in shock as they frantically pulled their triggers.

They had time enough for only one or two wild shots before Trials was on them, grabbing the first one and tossing him sideways into his companion. They tumbled in a confused heap, wedged in the narrow gap between the chairs. Trials could see them struggling to right themselves, but they were somehow… slow, as if moving through gel.

Trials looked up to see the man who had been guarding the front of the carriage drawing his gun, barrel half-out of the holster at his side. A glance back showed the other remaining man doing the same. Trials didn’t give them the chance.

Seconds later Trials stood over 6 groaning men in various states of repair. A few broken bones, some nasty concussions, but still alive. The pistol that had fallen to the floor earlier bumped against his feet, rolled there by the motions of the train. Trials picked it up and turned it slowly about in his hands, inspecting it. He looked at the men, and made a decision.

Moments later, Trials sat down with a deep exhalation and replayed the last minutes in his mind. Forget everything else that he had done since this madness began, what had happened on this train was impossible. Everything had slowed to a crawl except him. 6 men in what..? 30 seconds? Less?

He’d never felt so alive.

With a nasty smile on his face, Jacob Trials disembarked at the next station and crossed the platform, boarding the first train returning to London. He wasn’t running anymore.

The six unconscious, bound figures weren’t found until the train had travelled much further on. The weapons placed neatly disassembled on the seats nearby left them with a lot of difficult questions to answer.