this is a jail br-br-break, [calling the dominati]

[Jack Carbone]

Jack reveled in the (largely) positive commentary flowing his way. Yes, he was a crafty bastard, wasn't he? No, he hadn't had all that much difficulty theiving a train. No, he wasn't an idiot, but if it pleases you to think so. Tiny train? Deacon, you cad. A kleptomaniac? Why, certainly. Forcing the smile off his face after all the nicities thrown his way would have been more difficult to accomplish than scaling Everest. Not even Abelinda acting her usual Debbie Downer part had managed it, and a meeting with her usually left him shaking in his shoes, a fact he was all to willing to admit. Who didn't she scare the piss out of just by being her awful monotone self? Anyone willing to openly deny it was telling boldfaced lies, so who was he to say differently? Watching everyone mill about the station, however, all playing their respective parts, Carbone was beginning to envy the lot - particularly Snape, who was actively tourching exit routes. Kleptomaniac that he was, he could proudly attest to a streak of pyromania as well. He wanted that job, though prying it off Snape was, again, harder than scaling Everest. Just not a possibility. Besides, he was their getaway driver, and their getaway needed to happen roughly, oh, right now. "Oy, you lot. Board! On the double, lad's, we've got places to be." He shouted over the commotion. Azkaban was not an option. With all this ruckus, it wouldn't be much longer yet before the fuzz was hot on their trail.

"Hey, Carbone, I think I should drive the train."

Jack sneered at Woorden. Up until this very moment, Jack could have said with complete honesty that his exposure to him had been incredibly limited. His reputation preceded him, and it was one Jack wanted little to do with. How or why Abelinda had accepted him into the Dominati, Jack couldn't figure. He might have been good at what he did -whatever the hell that was- but his mental stability left a great deal to be desired. Though Jack himself might have lacked subtlety in favor of a good joke, Duivel struck him as lacking all around. "You've got about as much chance of driving as I do of stickin' it to Ms. Zabini, Woorden, so be kind and find a seat, would you?" He said, attempting diplomacy and failing to keep from sliding something offensive into his speech. If she didn't worry over Woorden, then she'd hex him for bringing her name into it. Clearly, Jack was a glutton for punishment.

"Come on, please, let me drive. I know how to do it. I've learnt from the best, ever tortured a train driver? I have. Told me everything. Besides if you let me drive I'll give you a wand..."

Never a patient man, Woorden was testing the very limits of what little he possessed, though he couldn't help but laugh when the man brandished two liquorice wands. "You're a basketcase, right?" He lost all humor in the situation mere seconds later. Really, get the hell out of here." he said, stone-faced and serious as death. He looked past Woorden, resisting every urge to land a good hit (for general principles), and again yelled to the group's various members "Show on the road, people! Haven't got the time to dick around." His nerves were creeping up on him, starting first in his shoulders and settling in his stomach. The threat of aurors was looming closer with each second that passed. He'd heard all of them mention their lost time, but no one seemed bothered enough to cease what they were doing. "C'mon, the fuzz!"

[ooc; this is absolutely horrible. I had to stop mid-post not once, but five times. I lost my muse after the first paragraph. >.<]

[Malcolm Baddock]

It was a good thing they had waited those two extra minutes. Malcolm had sensed that some people were going to be delayed. It always happened. You tell everyone a precise time and at least one or two would be late. There was definitely a punctuality problem in this mafia. They probably should have just left Starr and Woorden behind to teach them a lesson, but they were in need of numbers. Even batshit insane members were valuable at this point. And, bloody hell, Woorden was practically clinical. Still, Baddock remind himself, he was finally out, and that was what mattered. Now, it was time to get the hell out of here.

"Looks like some people didn't bother to show up," Malcolm remarked to Secundus. "They'll be getting a visit from me sooner or later." He heard Secundus tell Alejandro to get on the train and inform Carbone that they were leaving. By now, Snape had started the fire, and Malcolm smiled sadistically at the destruction they were going to leave behind. People were screaming and scarmbling, unable to make sense of themselves or their surroundings. It was pure, chaotic terror and it made Malcolm shiver with glee. Oh, how he had missed this.

By why let Secundus have all the fun? A Confundo! to his left. A jelly-legs jinx to his right. Anyone attempting to apprehend them was finding it rather difficult. Not to mention the crowds of screaming muggles were an absolute mess. You'd have thought they'd never been trapped in a fire before, the way they were panicking. Perhaps they were letting it go a bit too far, but the Dominati were back, dammit, and he wanted the whole world to know that even the aurors couldn't stop them.

Things were quickly escalating to the level of out of control, however, Malcolm didn't want to be around if things started exploding. He heard Jack's voice from the train recommend that they exit quickly, and Malcolm had to say the bloke was right. "Let's clean up!" he shouted to Secundus over the screaming and wailing. Malcolm muttered a few spells to cover their tracks, making it slightly more difficult for any wizards to follow them. Then, satisfied that they were going to get away scot free, Malcolm ran and jumped onto to the platform of the already moving train, trusting that Secundus was behind him. He gave one last jovial wave to the coppers who were trying to chase them and then hopped into the car, surprisingly excited to have everyone together again.

END.