Chapter Text
The wooden floors echoed when Centurion's heel clicked on them. As for Centurion, her chest was rising up and down, adrenaline plastered across that beautiful face of hers. She was amused, but the other passengers weren't reciprocating the same reaction. Seeing a towering, grown woman illegally hop onto the train without any signs of a ticket in her hand is a sight to see. But Centurion obviously had grown close with the familiarity of being stared at, good or not.
Passing by until she came across the private cabins. Grazing the metallic handles, Centurion opened the cabin. No one's there. Lucky...again.
"Well, looks like I hit the jackpot, as always." Centurion chuckled lowly, "A spot without a crowd, filing away every single move I do. Don't worry, little guy, we're safe." She lifted her hand, the sun shining on the sheen of the coin before absentmindedly flipping it again. Heels stacked, mounted on top of a chair's back.
It stayed like that until a staff member had now been examining the seats, checking for any anomalies. Though Centurion's sleeping was engulfing, it still wasn't strong enough to filter out the noises from the other cargoes. One by one, other train hoppers were being inspected. Some staff were commanding, others straight up swatting. Time was thinning, uncaring for Centurion's limited paradise.
"Ugh, so much for rest." Centurion sat up, stretching her muscles dramatically.
TAP, TAP, TAP
One of the staff knocked on the cabin doors. And unfortunately, it was Centurions. Her hands were at her sides. Her eyes took in the sight of the captivating landscape worthy of being painted. With the man sliding the door open, Centurion spun on her heel to take a stance and land a kick straight onto his ribs.
"FUCK!" The man cried out as his back collided with the wall. Centurion's ears twitched at that vulgar remark. Then the corners of her mouth later formed a smile. One infused with merriment and a grain of guilt.
"Whoa, dirty mouth here. Watch your language, there are children on this train!" She threw a wink, turned to her side, and strutted down the halls. She opened the door to a connector, then to another cargo. One after the other, hair wiping around in ways that can be qualified for a shampoo commercial. Head up high with her posture, unmistakably confident. Her golden accessories, coupled with her yellow eyes, now settle onto a female staff member.
"Well, that's new..." Centurion muttered. "A woman patrolling the aisles? That's rare." She thought to herself, but no narrow-minded comments were found in her behavior. Her eyebrows relaxed, then went back up again. The woman's body tensed, ultimately getting out of Centurion's way. That alone made Centurion's cockiness solidify.
"Gracias, mi querida señora." (Thank you, my sweet lady.) Centurion whispered back into the lady's ear with mischief dripping from her voice. She dipped to the woman's eye level, then straightened, continuing her grand escape.
As the male staff members chase Centurion, she doesn't quicken her movements. Instead, she simply twisted the last door's lock with the key she pocketed from the man she knocked down. She rotated her head around to see the man she had kicked holding his side. Pain was written all over his face. Bruises adorned his side, and a bruise for his ego.
"Don't you try. We'll find you either way."
Centurion rolled her eyes at that unsupported threat. "You hold onto your pride, and I'll hold onto my breath." And in a cinematic ending, Centurion pressed her foot against the edge of the train's floor, launching herself out into the wild.