Michael wasn't pleased to see someone rush to the girl's defense. Truthfully, he couldn't blame them for the reaction, but this was a little girl that had loudly announced her intention to help drag a woman onto the tracks of an oncoming train. Of course, Michael hadn't intended to shoot at all unless she'd tried to go ahead with it regardless of him, so the point was moot. He was about to try and explain himself when he heard someone call out "Behind you." He instinctively turned his head and was greeted by someone charging at him, with the glint of something metal flashing in his eyes.

Reacting swiftly, Michael raised his gun and fired. If this were playing out more favorably, he would have simply pointed and demanded whoever it was drop the knife, but he was already on edge, and his life was now directly in danger. Of all the things that could have happened, it turned out it was the worst thing he predicted; someone decided to charge him in a psychotic rage. The shot rang out, and Michael was sure he had struck true, at close range no less. But he had little time to process what had happened, as he felt a searing pain from his chest. He had been wounded. He wasn't even sure just how or when the man had gotten him. It may have even been simultaneous with his shot. It didn't really matter, because he had been slashed, and now pain was all that was on his mind. He stumbled back, clutching at his wounds, and soon lost his footing and tumbled onto the train tracks.

If Michael had been of a mind for thinking right now, he would have noted the irony that in trying so desperately to keep people off the tracks, he had ended up on the tracks himself. Naturally, all he could really think about was the pain, and the sudden realisation that he was most definitely right on the path of an oncoming train. Michael Keahi was going to die. He was going to die here, having tried to stick his neck out for a bunch of people that the bulk of which may not have even appreciated the effort. One of them had even tried to kill him, and had technically succeeded. Now he was really hoping there was another world on the other side of death, but he didn't plan on holding his breath, seeing as he wouldn't have long to do so before he was well and truly dead.

Taking one last glance up at the platform, he could see the ghost girl, standing there spewing some nonsense yet again. [color=fdc68a][i]"Fucking bitch..."[/i][/color] He muttered, his voice as low as it could get short of a whisper with his dwindling strength. It accomplished nothing, but it felt good to say it.