The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

A Knight In Soaking Armour

Rain fell drearily from above, drizzling in a most depressing manner.

Alice paid no attention to the slowly-building downpour. In fact, she quite liked the dark atmosphere; there was something comforting about the thunderstorms and the rainfall that accompanied them. Most people would consider it unnecessarily annoying and a major inconvenience, but not Alice. She appreciated the life-sustaining sky water, and enjoyed watching it patter against her window.

She didn't have to watch it from a window at home right now, however, as she was racing out of the Blanche Nevile School for Deaf Children, intent on catching the last train homebound. She was running late, having opted to stay at school after hours and prepare, and she hadn't brought her umbrella. She thought that today was going to be clear cast well into the night, but apparently she'd been dead wrong.

Cursing her lack of foresight, she dashed through the streets of London, heading towards King's Cross station. She needed to be there within five minutes, or she'd be stranded. Alice was already drenched, her short blonde bob haircut plastered to her face, sticking to her cheeks and covering parts of eyes. The slim pencil skirt was sticking to her in most uncomfortable ways, and she was quite sure that her underwear was somewhere it had no business being. She had to hightail it home, and soon.

Round the corner, across the street, and past the distinctive, cobblestone driveway, and she was there. Steam was pouring out the smokestack, and it looked like it was ready to leave. Quickly making her way over to the door, she felt a tug on her skirt that took her by surprise. A dodgy-looking man with a top hat in a drenched trench coat grinned at her with crooked and yellow teeth, his hand still on the hem of her pencil skirt. 

"What's the hurry, luv? You looking for a good time?"

Alice yanked on her skirt, but he didn't loosen his grip. "I'm not looking, thanks," she said coolly, slowly backing away in hopes he'd get the message. "I've got a train to catch, so if you'd excuse m--"

"C'mon, luv, you can cop a ride with me, we'll go for dinner and maybe do it in the loo, if that's to your fancy."

"What's to my fancy," Alice began, really starting to get angry, "is getting on this train and going home. Let go of me, you bloody wanker."

"You hear that, mates? She wants me to let go. And she called me a bloody wanker. What have we to say to that, mates?"

Alice's eyes widened as she saw more men come forward, at least half a dozen men all wearing trench coats and bowler hats for some reason. The man with the top hat was quite clearly their leader -- was this some sort of gang? What did they want with her? 

"Are you such manky prats that you've got to have this many men to threaten a woman? You lot are cowards. Bloody wankers!"

The man laughed hoarsely. "There she goes again, boys, calling me a bloody wanker. It's like she's asking for it." He tugged on her skirt tighter, lowering it the tiniest bit, bringing his face closer to hers. "Bloody wanker, am I? If you'd like, I'd show you a bloody wanker." He grabbed his crotch and gave it a tug, grinning menacingly at her all the while.

Alice was utterly revolted, her face conveying her dismay at the situation rather bluntly. Just as she was about to retort, she was cut off by the intercom system buzzing on to relay an announcement.

"All aboard the train at Platform 9, all aboard, last call. The train will depart in five minutes."

Desperation began to claw at Alice's conscience. "I need to get on that train right now, let me go!"

"Let you go, you say? Alright."

The man yanked her by the skirt, pulling her closer, and grabbing her by the wrist. He turned, dragging her along the platform towards the front of the train. She struggled against his grip, but it was iron-tight, and she couldn't escape.