[WP] A meek man stands up on the subway one day and says, "I am in charge now. You all must listen to me." And everyone does. Everyone.

The man's outburst was met with confused silence. Then a cluster of teens began to chuckle, and other passengers muttered uneasily to their companions or went back to their screens. It was obviously a joke in very poor taste, or else he was just plain crazy. No one really believed him, at first.

"I am in charge now," he repeated softly, as if to reassure himself, his thick white fingers fiddling with the zipper at his throat. Then, louder: "You all must listen to me!"

With one jerking movement he unzipped the coat to reveal the explosive device strapped to his chest. He began to laugh in a strangled, demented kind of way that rattled everyone in the carriage.

A pair of young ladies sitting closest to the man shrieked and almost immediately began to cry, while the teenagers jeers froze on their stupefied faces.

"Stay where you are! Don't move! Don't make a sound! I am in charge now!"

As the man whirled and began to pace down the aisle I stared at the bomb. I didn't know enough about explosives to guess whether it was real or not, and having only seen such things in movies my first thought was that it looked like an incredibly low budget prop. Definitely a home-made device, red and white tubes which looked suspiciously similar to toilet paper rolls had been stitched into loops on a black vest, and a mess of tangled wires connected each to a weird rectangular device in the middle. There was no ticking timer, no blinking lights, no fancy multicoloured wiring. It looked... lame.

His patchy grey hair was slick, his pate gleaming with sweat as his wild bloodshot eyes darted up and down the carriage. Occasionally he paused to spout a torrent of crazed gibberish to anyone who accidentally made eye contact. Something about Fukushima spewing radiation like a fountain while the world looks the other way, wherever that was.

As the train continued to shuttle blindly through the subterranean gloom, I wondered what would happen when we reached the next station. The man hadn't made any demands other than to listen to him, and didn't seem interested in trying to stop or take control of the train. The driver, as well as all the passengers in other carriages were probably completely unaware of what was happening.

A cold shiver trickled down my spine as I realised that perhaps he wanted the train to stop at the next station. The next stop was Central, and it was almost peak hour. I could imagine the crowded platform ahead, hundreds of tired commuters pressed shoulder to shoulder at the yellow line, staring down the tunnel, willing the train to arrive so they could get home to their families and a hot meal. All crammed together, oblivious to the fiery doom that pierced the darkness like an electric bullet towards them.

I could picture it in slow motion. The fireball radiating outwards as a ripple of carnage minced those closest to him in a heartbeat. The screaming metal and concrete shredded by the heat and force of blast, tossed like dry leaves in a gust of wind. Maybe the pillars supporting the roof would buckle, maybe the whole place would collapse and bury us all in tonnes of rubble that would take months to clear.

And the aftermath. The screams of the dying, twisted and burning in the rubble. The blackened, bloodied faces stumbling of the dust. Lines of broken shapes beneath sheets. Wailing children without their mothers. Wailing mothers without their children. Viral news coverage. Mass paranoia.

Grief.

Fear.

Hatred.

I knew we had to stop this madman. And fast.

I glanced around at my fellow hostages. The others were mostly middle-aged men and women in uniforms or budget business suits, as I was. I tried to make eye contact but they stared sullenly at their hands, only occasionally glancing towards the man as he continued to spout nonsense about the redundancy of fireworks in this age of touch technology and laser surgery.

The two women were still crying, their heads bowed close together, and a grandmother across from me had her eyes closed in prayer. Or had nodded off.

While I searched I began to formulate a plan. I was a fairly big guy and he seemed pretty scrawny under that coat. If I could somehow tackle him I could pin him down until help arrived, but we'd need to be sure to hold both arms so he couldn't detonate the bomb. I assumed he had some kind of a remote or trigger somewhere.

A young woman with a half shaved head and pink stockings two rows away caught my eye. She was sitting with the group of teenagers, but unlike the others who looked like they were shitting bricks, she met my gaze with a cool, steady calm. She must have read my thoughts as clear as if I had shouted them as her dark eyes flickered to the man then back to me and, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

We maintained furtive eye contact until the man had made another pass and his back was to us, then I pointed to myself and made a hugging motion with my arms, signalling how I would attempt to grab him as he passed by again. I mimed holding a remote, indicating his hands, and then grabbed my wrists in my best attempt at charades, feeling the stares of other passengers prickling my peripheral vision when they noticed my arm movements. I hoped none of them were stupid to say or do anything and fuck us up.

The girl's clever eyes assured me that she understood the plan. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip and I saw her swallow hard. Then, she nodded again.

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