"What? No, we didn't hear that. Or see that. And I spent a lot of time looking out of windows." Looking for them. Fruitlessly, because even if they found them, they couldn't leave the train to get them. A specific memory, Soldat with a notebook and pencil in hand, making another tally mark next to someone's name, drifts across the link, along with the sense of helpless futility. "Couldn't get the doors open again, after they closed. We tried."

They admittedly did not shoot any guns at the doors, but they're about 80% sure the bullet would have rebounded, and 90% sure it wouldn't even have made a dent in the process.

The void's mist swirls around them, the city disappearing behind them.