Keith was in a focused rage, a rare sight, but the most deadly spectacle he could muster. The hood flew off the hoodie guy, revealing an average looking face and a fauxhawk to boot. When he landed, Keith's knee went  into the punk's forehead, sending him flying back into a free seat, from when the hoodie guy lurched forward trying to get in a few more hits, but it was too late, Keith's warning fell on deaf ears, but his right cross fell on a fractured jaw. Lifting him off the ground just to throw him back down was the last move Keith made before taking a deep breath, and lifting the hoodie guy up one last time.<br/><br/>"This is your stop" He said to the only half conscious thug, and low and behold, just then the doors opened, they arrived at the second stop. "Would you like the horror, Zebel?" He said, without even looking at her, he knew every move she had made, every twitch, and even knew she gasped when he got kneed in the chin, which was odd in and of itself. In a rage, even a controlled rage, he only had one goal in mind, and everything else was irrelevant, yet it was as if his minds eye was fixed on her.