Ulstermann — Roleplayer Guild

@Tuxedo Fox

SECONDARY QUEST- A Light in the Darkness

SECONDARY QUEST- A Light in the Darkness

Carson hurried the remaining Marauders out of the bilge with carefully aimed single shots from his rifle. By the time the last enemy had fled through the corridor Boss had finished off the Marauder with the flamer by gouging his eyes out and snapping his neck. Not for the first time since meeting Boss outside the Trading Post in Orleans, Carson found himself wishing that he could recruit Boss to the External Security Bureau. Maybe he would bring the idea up at some point.  "Damn me, you certainly dealt with that shitbag." Carson said. 

"Let's keep moving." Was all Boss answered, retrieving his weapons. Carson nodded, reloading his AK as he followed the blood-spattered Boss up the stairs and into the darkened interior of the ship. 

The entire ship groaned and creaked as the pair made their way though her lower levels. Carson kept glancing up at the ceiling, hoping the entire thing wouldn't fall. They had just reached what had once been the passageway to the canteen when the floor shifted under their feet. Carson steadied himself against the wall until it subsided. 

Boss turned back to Carson. "Watch your step, don't think this floor is exactly-" And with that the section of flooring Boss had been standing on collapsed, pitching Boss down into a lower level of the wreck. Once the horrid sound of tearing smashing metal had ceased the major went to the edge. 

"Still breathing?" He called. 

"I'm fine." Came the breathless reply. Boss had avoided a gory death by implement at least. 

"Fuck's sake." Carson spat, looking for a way down. Nothing. "Right, man." He went on. "Looks like we're splitting up. Just keep heading upwards, that'll get you to the upper deck." He reached into his pack and withdrew two small torches. Attaching one to his AK barrel he tossed the other to his companion. "Clip that under your shotgun barrel." He called. "I'm gonna backtrack till I find a way up. Good luck!" With that Carson turned on his heel and jogged off. 

The Enclave officer found another way through the ship with relative ease; there were many ladders, stairs and the like. Carson headed up two levels before he ran into his first obstacle. 

The stairwell  to the level above him was blocked by a number of heavy shipping crates that had been tossed there by the impact of the ship against the shore. To add insult to injury there was a four-man squad of Marauders patrolling the corridor. Carson, crouched in a doorway, realised he was going to have to take them down. 

It wasn't difficult. The enemy were all in an enclosed space with no idea they were in danger. Carson spun out of cover, flicking on his torch. The glare blinded the patrol, who flinched. Carson cut them all down without a moments thought, sweeping his AK back and forth until not a man lived. The officer moved on without a glance, leaving their blood staining the floor in an ever-widening pool.

The trip through the rest of the ship was uneventful. Only a few men were about, and they mostly stayed in small groups in cabins, wardrooms, and the like. But once Carson reached the ship's bar, he ran into a far grater obstacle than a stack of boxes and a couple of underlings.

He was halfway through the door before he even saw the danger. It was the ship's executive officer, or the closest thing it had to one. Collins, for that was his name, saw that Carson wasn't one of his and dropped the bottle he had been inspecting. "Time to die, fuckhead!" He growled, launching himself at Carson before he had a chance to bring up his weapon and blow Collins away. The Jet-fuelled Marauder crashed into Carson, sending him careening into shelves full of bottles. The major ducked out of the way as Collins slashed down with his electrified blade, cleaving through glass and steel like it was butter. Carson rolled under the next blow, pulling himself upright and opening fire. 

The bullets thumped into Collins' armour, staggering the man but not stopping him. The second in command came on still, battering Carson's rifle aside and slamming him against the bulkhead. Feeling Collins' hand close around his neck he scrabbled desperately behind him, grabbing and smashing two bottles over the enemies' head. Collins reeled back and Carson yanked the grenade he had taken from Boss' barge from his belt. "Eat it!" He gasped, tossing the grenade at the Marauder while diving aside. 

The explosion tore a hole in the side of the ship, fire blossoming from the hole. Carson was thrown off his feet into the bar, shreds of flesh and splinters of wood raining down. Collins blade, still gripped in his fist, buried itself in the wood centimetres from Carson's head. The major slowly turned and read the inscription along the sword. "Bloodthirster." He said quietly, yanking it from the bar. "Should make a fine replacement for Boss' machete." 

Carson grunted with the effort of heaving the hatch open. With a final shove the hatch slammed open and Carson climbed wearily onto the top deck of the Southern Star. He looked round, satisfied that no one was about to jump him, and walked over to the rail where he lit a cigar. He would start looking for Boss in a minute, but right now he was going to take a break.
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My name's Friday

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