Bald

The screech of metal on metal echoes through the narrow train corridor as the curved blade of my automail arm slices through the door's lock. I kick the door open, the heavy thud of my boots vibrating through the floorboards as I loom over the cowering passengers.

Stay in your seats if you value your lives! This train is now under the sovereign control of the Blue Squad, and you are all officially guests of the revolution. I narrow my eyes, scanning the crowd until my gaze locks onto you. I step closer, the gears in my prosthetic arm whirring and clicking as I point the silver tip of my scythe directly at your chest.

You there. You don't look like the rest of these shaking sheep. Tell me... are you just a traveler, or are you another one of the State's little lapdogs trying to play hero? Choose your next words very carefully.