[Third Person's PoV]
Sam and Tucker trembled with fright and horror as they watched the masked clowns threatening passengers further down the train, steadily making their way toward them.
"Tucker," Danny called out calmly in a hushed voice, "Take care of Sam."
"What?" They both muttered, but before they could protest, Danny shot Tucker a look and swiftly stood up, walking toward the clowns.
"Danny! What are you doing!?" Sam exclaimed.
Her voice drew the attention of the clowns—exactly what Danny had hoped for.
"Hey, clowns," Danny said, casually strolling forward with his hands tucked into his sweater pockets, "You're on the wrong ride. There's no stop leading to the circus."
"Huh?! You sure act brave, kid!" The lead clown sneered, leveling a sawed-off shotgun at Danny. "Don't try to be a hero—it won't end well for you. Now, empty your pockets!"
Sam and Tucker watched in terror. Sam was about to stand up and intervene, but Tucker held her back, remembering Danny's words.
Danny scoffed. "Brave? More like observant. You forgot to cock back the shotgun after firing it, idiot."
"What?" the clown snarled.
"When you fire a shotgun, you're supposed to rack the pump to chamber the next shell—" Danny didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he launched a high kick, striking the shotgun and sending it flying toward the train's ceiling.
The gun discharged as it hit the roof, causing a deafening blast. The lead clown yelped in surprise, but Danny was already in motion. He slammed his fist into the man's armpit with enough force to make him drop the gun. As soon as it hit the floor, Danny kicked it back across the train, sending it skidding out of reach behind him.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the clown by the face and smashed his head against the subway window. The glass shattered, and blood smeared across the cracks as the masked clown slumped unconscious onto an empty seat.
A heavy silence fell over the train. The passengers, the clowns, even Sam and Tucker—all of them stared in stunned disbelief.
Danny smirked. "If you all keep staring, I might just blush."
In truth, he wasn't as confident as he looked. There were still too many of them, and the cramped space wasn't in his favor. But fear was a weapon, and he had just given them a reason to hesitate.
"What the hell?! He's just one brat acting cocky! There's more of us than him!" one of the clowns shouted.
The closest clown swung a bat at him with excessive force. Danny ducked, and the bat slammed into the subway pole, vibrating violently. Before the man could recover, Danny drove a powerful kick into his leg, making him drop to one knee.
Danny yanked the bat from the clown's grasp, flipped it into position, and swung it upward, smashing it across the man's chin.
A sharp clang rang out, followed by a pained wail. Blood and shattered teeth spilled from beneath the mask.
Danny swung the bat down for another strike, but another clown intercepted it with a crowbar, deflecting it upward into the train's low ceiling.
A sharp kick to Danny's ribs followed. He grunted, stumbling slightly.
'This space is way too tight to use a bat efficiently,' Danny thought, discarding the weapon.
The crowbar came down at him like a hammer. Danny raised his forearms to block, pain exploding through his arms as the metal slammed into him.
"That's gonna leave a mark," he grunted. But instead of retreating, he grabbed the clown's arm and yanked him forward, sidestepping and tripping him. The clown crashed headfirst into the dented pole.
Another masked thug lunged with a knife. Danny quickly stepped back, creating distance. As the crowbar-wielding clown groaned, struggling to rise, Danny kicked him hard, slamming his head against a seat and knocking him unconscious.
The knife-wielding clown charged. Danny leaped up, gripping the overhead railing, and kicked the blade from his hand. The weapon clattered to the floor as the clown yelped in pain, clutching his wrist.
Danny dropped down, hopped onto a seat, and launched himself forward, kicking the clown square in the face.
He landed with a wince—blood had begun soaking through his jacket. 'That crowbar did more damage than I thought.'
Peeling off the torn jacket, Danny tossed it at the next charging clown. The thug swung blindly, his punch sinking into the fabric instead of Danny.
Then the jacket dropped—revealing Danny's fist already flying toward his face.
A sickening crunch echoed through the train.
The clown gagged as Danny followed it up by punching his neck, clutching his throat Danny grabbed the back of the clown's head with two hands and pulled him down, driving a knee into his face. Blood splattered onto the subway floor.
The next clown down the train pulled out a revolver. With a flick of his thumb, he cocked the hammer back—
But before he could fire, the train jolted, throwing off his aim. The gunshot went wide, punching a hole into the train wall.
Danny seized the opportunity. Grabbing onto a nearby pole for support as the subway doors opened, he swung his body and kicked the revolver clean out of the clown's hand. The gun flew onto the platform, where horrified passengers hesitated to board.
Danny stepped forward. The clown instinctively raised his arms to shield his face.
Big mistake.
Danny smirked. "You left yourself open."
He drove his foot straight between the man's legs.
The clown let out a strangled wheeze and crumpled to the floor.
Danny rolled his shoulders. "I should probably make a joke here about clowns and scrambled eggs."
The remaining clown hesitated, eyeing their fallen comrades. Danny grinned, despite the pain pulsing through his body.
"You wanna try your luck too?" Danny asked the last clown at the back of the cart, hoping he'd just give up.
Instead, the clown dropped his bag of stolen goods and pulled two knives from his pockets.
Danny exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling from exhaustion. Every movement sent fresh pain stabbing through his wounded arm. His body ached from the constant battle.
"Great… you can dual-wield. How fantastic," Danny muttered, exasperated.
The clown lunged, slashing wildly. Danny dodged and weaved as best as he could, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid everything. A blade nicked his cheek, another grazed his torso. He gritted his teeth, searching for an opening.
One of the passengers, a well-dressed Black man watching in fearful awe, finally decided to act as he couldn't help but want to assist the kid that's fighting for them. As the clown stepped forward, the businessman subtly stuck out his foot.
The clown tripped.
Danny didn't hesitate. He surged forward, seizing the opportunity. The moment the clown stumbled, Danny grabbed his outstretched arm and twisted his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor—Danny caught it midair.
The clown recovered, swinging his remaining blade upward in a diagonal slash. Danny ducked.
While crouched, he drove the stolen knife into the clown's thigh and twisted.
The clown screamed in agony.
Danny seized his other arm, then gripped his face and charged forward at full speed. He slammed the clown into the glass panel at the end of the train cart, the impact cracking it.
Again.
And again.
He kept smashing the man's skull against the glass until he slumped, barely conscious. Just to be sure, Danny drove his knee into the clown's face—once, twice, three times—until his body went limp.
Danny gasped for air, stumbling sideways before dropping into an empty seat. He cradled his injured arm and shut his eyes for a moment.
"You alright, kid?" the businessman asked, concerned.
Danny cracked an eye open, his face twisted in pain. "Oh yeah, I'm on cloud nine right now," he lied through his teeth.
The man gave him a look but nodded respectfully.
"Do me a favor," Danny muttered. "Make sure none of them get away."
"Consider it done," the man assured him.
Sam and Tucker hesitantly stepped forward, their hands trembling as they stepped over unconscious, bloodied bodies and scattered weapons.
Danny looked up at them, one eye closed in discomfort, but a weak, playful smirk tugged at his lips.
"What's wrong with you two? You're as white as a ghost~" He chuckled at his own joke.
Sam's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Tucker's expression was twisted in anguish as he stared at his battered best friend.
Danny's smile faltered. "C'mon, guys, you're making me feel bad over here… Say something."
But they couldn't. Words failed them. It was like their entire reality had been flipped upside down.
Without a word, Sam moved first. She walked over and sank into the seat at the end of the cart. Tucker sat on the opposite side, leaving Danny in the middle.
Then, suddenly, Sam threw her arms around Danny's side, burying her face in his neck. She didn't speak. She just held on.
Tucker placed a trembling hand on Danny's shoulder, his mind still reeling.
"..."
Tucker eventually stood and retrieved Danny's discarded jacket. With Sam's help, they fashioned it into a makeshift sling for his arm.
Danny sighed, shaking his head. "You know, you guys being this quiet is way scarier than the fight I just had."
"Sorry..." Tucker finally said. "But Danny, can you blame us? We're in shock. We don't even know what to say."
"I do!" Danny declared, forcing a grin. "I say we still go to that concert and have a blast!" He threw up a devil-horns sign with his good hand.
Tucker sighed, slouching back against the seat. "Sure thing, buddy… Sure thing."
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