The off-white looking floor of the train cart had never looked so empty. If one was looking down, you'd probably see a bunch of feet belonging to an unhealthy amount of box-heads from mad gear or canary crate gang. Instead, there were these cool sneakers. Nice and different, leading up to jean covered legs and a cyan jacket—Ed.

And there are the other feet you usually see. Ed's movements are wild, unpredictable but timed so well its mesmerizing. Punching, ducking, backswaying—this wasnt the first time you'd seen him here, at this point it looks like choreography the amount of times you've spectated.

"Losers.." Ed grumbles, fixing his red knuckle wraps, the biggest one of the group on the ground knocked out while he walked up to the trains door, waiting for the train to come to a stop. Then finally, he looks over at you.