1

We've been on the train for several days, I haven't kept track. That is the last thing I think about as we slide through the desert. The doors are cracked a tiny bit to provide some ventilation to the otherwise insufferable train car. This isn't a passenger train; that would have much too obvious. No one sees a passenger train anymore, especially not passing through bandit country. We would have been stopped a long time ago had we done that. Instead, our leader Helena Pierce, administrator of New Haven and lieutenant for the Crimson Raiders, took control of a Hyperion shipment train headed to Sanctuary. We couldn't have stayed in New Haven, the dingy place from which we came. Although it provided us shelter for longer than I'd expected, everyone knew we wouldn't be safe for long. We were one of Hyperion's next targets—everyone knew that—and the bandit camp next door only made the situation worse.

The train car which held us is overpacked and uncomfortable. I try to remain as still and quiet as possible; it is easy to agitate people who are tired and irritable. Sleeping is nearly impossible, although I have drifted off a few times from sheer exhaustion. There are about 25 of us all together, and we form the last group of refugees from New Haven. After Hyperion troops landed nearby, almost everyone was executed. Many of those who tried to run either died from the dangers of Pandora or were shot dead by bandits. I know everyone here, no newcomers really ever came to New Haven, so I've been around the same people for almost my whole life. We all sit cross-legged on the floor in somewhat of a circular pattern. The younger ones are sitting in the middle. There weren't too many children that made it out, and it's really sad to see mothers or fathers leave the graves of their kids behind.

Suddenly, everyone in the car jolts and flies into each other. I hit my head against the metal walls of the car and immediately turned my attention to the door. One of the older men slid the door leading the car ahead of us open an inch or two. I could see Helena get up from the floor and regain her composure. She insisted in staying in a separate car from us—not out of selfishness or need for privacy—but for our own safety. If something were to happen, she said we were not to be with her. Her car is full of supply crates, after all is a supply freight train. There isn't enough room for us all in there, anyways.

The train skids to a stop with an ear-piercing screech. Something is wrong, why are we stopping? Surely they haven't run out of fuel, so what is it…? I think. Then I hear a loud thud above us. I feel sick to my stomach as I hear thuds on the roof of the train. Footsteps, I determine. We all sit, dead quiet—no one dares breathe and break the silence—and watch through the slit as someone enters Helena's car. She doesn't budge or turn around. She doesn't even acknowledge the person at first.

Then, she speaks. "What is the meaning of this?"

As soon as I hear the other voice, I know we won't make it off this train alive. "Handsome jack here, how are ya? I'm sorry what was your name again?"

"Pierce."

"Well, Ms. Pierce—and don't tell me it's Mrs. Pierce and break my heart—this train doesn't belong to you. Why don't you turn around and face me, pumpkin?"

She did as he said; she knows that she can't ignore him. Technically, this is his train. When she turns around and we see her profile, we know we're in trouble. Jack sees the person who hijacked Hyperion's train. He's gonna kill her, I think.

"This train was commandeered legally under—," she begins, but Jack cuts her off.

"Holy nutballs! What happened to your frickin face?" He exclaims with a sort of chuckle.

She just stares at him, unamused and stonefaced. He's surely not the first one to comment on her appearance. I always found her to be quite good looking, even with the accident she sustained. Everyone out here is scarred, anyways. It's not uncommon to see and everyone knows better than comment on it.

"Oh yeah? How about this –lady?—I don't even know what to call you: you tell me why you look like you headbutted a belt sander, and I'll let all of you go right now."

Well, he knows there's more of us, then. What a jackass, I thought. Why would Hyperion choose to employ this man. I've heard plenty about him on the ECHOnet but I've never seen him in person. He's just as despicable as I always imagined.

"My husband gave me a skag pearl ring. The pearl released hunger-inducing pheromones," she stated matter-of-factly. I can tell either she's had to explain that too often or she has been mulling over in her head what to say when confronted. She didn't even miss a beat. I can tell she's not afraid of him, she stands with a tall back to meet his height, and she hasn't lowered her eyes since he stepped foot into her car.

"Oh. You know what? I am so sorry. I – I just…Forgive me. Where's your husband now?" Jack asked.

"He's dead."

Jack pauses for a second and looked at her. "What a shame, well…" he draws a Hyperion repeater from his side and shoots her in the side, "now you have something in common with him at least!"

A/N: Hi guys, sorry it's been literally so long since I've been on here.. over a year I believe. You guys probably thought I was gone but I'm back. I don't know if I'll finish my Casey stories but if you guys want me to I suppose I can. My writing has improved a lot and I haven't even read them in years.