The horses began to run, driving into the open patches within the crowd. Those on foot feel back fearing being trampled under hoof, other coachmen started shouts that feel short. Seeing the mad devil Jack at the lash halted there words and breath. Wonder and fear gripped the street.
Johansen struggled to stay top the coach with the Jack carving a crazy course that often battered into coaches and building alike. The Swede grabbed at the devils arm but it recoiled and hissed finally becoming aware of the big man. A knife flashed out, slashing wildly at Johansen. He fell back grasping for anything that would keep him atop the coach.
Fragonard did his best to follow on foot cutting through the retreating crowd while keeping his eyes on the conflict on the cab. His attention locked on the devil he batter full into another struggle on the street. Fragonard gasped "But How", his arms bracing the space in between himself and the devil; now on foot. His eyes falling back to the cab, yes it was there as well. "There are two?"
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