Post by Weeks on Oct 3, 2014 23:48:59 GMT -5
There were very few times in Justin’s life in which he had felt this angry. He had read in books how peoples “blood boiled” or how they “saw red”. He had never in his life understood just how real that description was in that moment. He was grinding his teeth, gripping the shotgun with pinched white fingers his entire body feeling hot with absolute rage. He had purpose, he knew where he was and what he was doing, only difference now was that we was going to actively look for trouble.
As he strode down the hall, his borrowed shotgun in hand, he scanned down the long hallway looking for anything that might make a valuable target. His pace was quick his boots tapping along the hard wood floor with a typical tapping sound. Breathing and heart rate elevated he finally saw his next objective, the steel double doors to the engine room.
He could already hear the loud churning of the engines, accompanied with the humming of spinning turbines, set to idle as the ship had come to a standstill. He strode up to it quietly, touching the door softly, feeling how warm it was from the hot air circulating inside. Pressing his ear up to it, he listened for any sign of movement. Justin was not disappointed. Muffled, but audible he listened closely.
“…the last of them sir. Think we should head up to the main deck?”
“Make one last round, make sure none of the workers are left. I don’t want a single of them doing anything to sabotage the engines.”
“Yes sir!”
With cool confidence Justin scanned for Donner. He should have been there by now, but as he listened for any other sign of life he saw and heard nothing. Hopefully Donner was off collecting the loot, so for the moment the sniper or would be gunslinger would have to go it alone. That suited him just fine. Though he wanted blood, he didn’t want anyone to see him in this kind of state.
At last he reached out for the handle to the engine room, finding it was solidly locked from the inside. He grinned slightly, as if he had wanted it that way all along. Pulling down the brim of his hat ever so slightly, he positioned himself in front of the door, raised his leg, and began to pound on the door.
From the inside of the engine room, it must have been quite a shock to suddenly hear something trying to bash its way inside. Loud clangs and bangs reverberating across every nook and cranny, along with the large dents beginning to form on the door itself, the heavy hinges already starting to give weigh.
CLANG! BANG! BOOM! SLAM!
With every kick a large dent formed into the door until the light from the other side began to peek through, the red and orange glow of the engine fires dancing alone the walls in an eerie fashion.
“TO ARMS! TO THE DOOR!” came a shout from the other side, a few poor souls trying desperately to push back on it, unable to stem to flow of destruction.
“NO YOU FOOLS! BACK AWAY!”
Too late. With one more pulverizing blow, the double doors flew open, throwing any poor sap on the other side away with distinct thuds. And even then, the last few people who had been on the other side far enough away to come away from the door unscathed now had the barrel of a shotgun pointed right at them.
Still, the situation was not entirely in Justin’s favor. As he took a few moments in the confusion to survey the room he could see goons covering the place. The long and wide engine room along with a winding catwalk above him had more than enough guards to cause him trouble. Not only that, but guards could be seen every ten feet or so along the long stretch, only interrupted by a few carts to bring coal to the boilers. However, that trouble would have been when Justin was in his usual lazy mood. Right now, he was hands down absolutely positively pissed off.
“TAKE HIM DOWN!”
That call was enough for Justin to realize that he shouldn’t be standing in the open, so instead he charged. With a few quick steps and a great leap over the heads of the men he had just downed from his door breech, he pointed the muzzle of the shotgun directly below him, pulling the trigger the moment he was directly over them the deadly balls of lead raining down on the heads of the scum.
From this moment on, the carnage was absolutely magnificent. There was not a moment where Justin was left idle the moment he landed. With another resounding leap, he jumped for the many pipes crisscrossing the room, swinging, jumping, sometimes flipping around them as he discarded the shotgun and used his right hand to start placing shots at anyone who had strayed too far from cover. The men below could do nothing but try and get a clean shot on the monkey man, jumping from catwalk to catwalk kicking and shooting his way across the room as bodies started to fall down to the floor, sometimes pinning the occasional unlucky goon.
“SOMEBODY SHOOT THAT SON OF A BITCH!” he heard someone call, but there was simply too much disorder for it to do much good.
As pistols emptied it came down to swords and blunt weapons, even fists in dire situations as the cowboy in a flying rage jumped from cover to cover, bounding off walls and even off bodies. Bones cracked, skulls filled with holes, and screams of pain and panic echoed all over the engine room, the heavy steam engines barely audible over the noise of it all.
Still, Justin was not in his right mind either. Had he been facing off against seasoned marines, or any other organization that mad some real semblance of rank structure, he might not have fared as well. For the moment his tactics were working. The slavers, men who gained power through abuse and fear were getting a piece of their own medicine, a double dose in fact.
To get some semblance of order and any sort of advantage, men began to jump from the catwalks, regrouping below where the sniper would have to take them all on at once. That suited him just fine, as his smaller revolver finally ran dry of shots, its muzzle smoking profusely. With a quick spin around his finger he holstered it, jumping below as he met the group head on, bringing his bayonet clad rifle to bear. With a shot still ready in the chamber he fired it from his hip as he sprinted at the group, one poor soul in the front catching it in the kidney as the rest stampeded over him.
When they met it was like a freight train hitting a Vespa, but not in the way you would expect. Winding his rifle back like a baseball bat and following through with one arm he destroyed the front line of the attack, the bayonet on the end slicing through flesh and scraping bone. Still, the others came forward without regard to the situation, and spinning his rifle around his arm the sniper created a formidable parrying shield.
With one side covered he pulled his heavy revolver from his hip, pulling back on the hammer and trigger just as fast as he was able. At point blank range the revolver blew men back, the bullets screaming through several bodies before ricocheting off something metal behind them. Once empty, he one handedly holstered the heavy revolver, now using his legs like battering rams as he made hops and skids, using his upper body to thrust and slash with his rifle, even using the blunt end to crack a few skulls.
A few minutes later, it was all over. The dead littering the floor as the dyeing screamed in pain or began to breathe their last breaths.
And then, one by one, Justin began to execute them. Reloading his pistols when he needed, he planted a single round into heads as they begged for mercy. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood and burning coal as the engine room started to become deadly quiet. The wounded who could play dead did so, the ones who managed to sneak away did as well, but most of them had perished. Soon Justin had come to the last remaining guard who was holding his side as a stab wound slowly leaked blood from his body.
“Any last words?” asked Justin, only giving him that satisfaction as he had to pause to reload his revolver.
“You really think you’ll make it out of this alive? You’re messing with something you know nothing about.” He wheezed, grinning from ear to ear.
Justin said nothing, only calmly loaded in the first round as the wheel of the revolver swung out with a click.
“Who do you think you are? Fisher Tiger?” he coughed, looking up with a shit eating grin.
“Don’t know who that is.” replied Justin, his voice cold, unfeeling.
“Course you don’t. Your just a know nothing goodie two shoes. Fucking with a world Noble is as good as a death sentence kid.”
“I’ll live longer than you.”
The scum chuckled as Justin loaded in the last round, spun the cylinder and twitched his hand to the right, clicking it closed.
“All this for a bunch of sla-“
The first shot slammed into his gut, if he thought he would get a quick death, he was mistaken. The next went up slightly, catching him right under the lungs. And slightly up each shot went, fired slowly, so the man would feel every ounce of pain just before the last shot hit his heart, sending him to hell.
It was only a few short moments of silence as the last ringing of the shots reverberated off the walls when the distinct thud was heard, Justin turning towards it slowly, confident he could meet any challenge now.
But in that moment he found nothing but horror. It was at this moment that Donner had returned, a large chest of gold at his feet as the Cannon man looked on, stunned, as if he had just witnessed a murder. In truth, that’s might be exactly what he had just seen. They looked at each other for a moment, unable to move, wondering what the other might say. This was not something Justin had wanted anyone to walk in on, the only consolation being that if it had been Kallie he would have regretted this for the rest of his life. He might anyway. What Justin had just done was nothing short of a massacre.
The sniper gulped, keeping any sort of weak emotion from escaping, knowing now, more than ever, he had to finish the job he had started.
“You saw them?” he asked, knowing that would be enough.
He received no real reply, but the look on Donner’s face assured Justin that he had.
“Take the gold to the ship. Heard any of the surviving crew up top and get them off“
And that was it. It was all Justin could muster before he motioned Donner to the door, who for a second or longer could do nothing but stare. Once he picked up the chest and was gone, Justin went to work doing what he did best.
As he made his way back to the main deck of the ship he did not look back. Though the run in with Donner had spooked Justin, he was by no means ready to calm down. No, he had gotten his blood, but what he really wanted was revenge.
“15 Minutes.” Said Justin, a tiny Den Den Mushi in his hand as he strode quickly for the front of the ship.
As he strode down the hall, his borrowed shotgun in hand, he scanned down the long hallway looking for anything that might make a valuable target. His pace was quick his boots tapping along the hard wood floor with a typical tapping sound. Breathing and heart rate elevated he finally saw his next objective, the steel double doors to the engine room.
He could already hear the loud churning of the engines, accompanied with the humming of spinning turbines, set to idle as the ship had come to a standstill. He strode up to it quietly, touching the door softly, feeling how warm it was from the hot air circulating inside. Pressing his ear up to it, he listened for any sign of movement. Justin was not disappointed. Muffled, but audible he listened closely.
“…the last of them sir. Think we should head up to the main deck?”
“Make one last round, make sure none of the workers are left. I don’t want a single of them doing anything to sabotage the engines.”
“Yes sir!”
With cool confidence Justin scanned for Donner. He should have been there by now, but as he listened for any other sign of life he saw and heard nothing. Hopefully Donner was off collecting the loot, so for the moment the sniper or would be gunslinger would have to go it alone. That suited him just fine. Though he wanted blood, he didn’t want anyone to see him in this kind of state.
At last he reached out for the handle to the engine room, finding it was solidly locked from the inside. He grinned slightly, as if he had wanted it that way all along. Pulling down the brim of his hat ever so slightly, he positioned himself in front of the door, raised his leg, and began to pound on the door.
From the inside of the engine room, it must have been quite a shock to suddenly hear something trying to bash its way inside. Loud clangs and bangs reverberating across every nook and cranny, along with the large dents beginning to form on the door itself, the heavy hinges already starting to give weigh.
CLANG! BANG! BOOM! SLAM!
With every kick a large dent formed into the door until the light from the other side began to peek through, the red and orange glow of the engine fires dancing alone the walls in an eerie fashion.
“TO ARMS! TO THE DOOR!” came a shout from the other side, a few poor souls trying desperately to push back on it, unable to stem to flow of destruction.
“NO YOU FOOLS! BACK AWAY!”
Too late. With one more pulverizing blow, the double doors flew open, throwing any poor sap on the other side away with distinct thuds. And even then, the last few people who had been on the other side far enough away to come away from the door unscathed now had the barrel of a shotgun pointed right at them.
Still, the situation was not entirely in Justin’s favor. As he took a few moments in the confusion to survey the room he could see goons covering the place. The long and wide engine room along with a winding catwalk above him had more than enough guards to cause him trouble. Not only that, but guards could be seen every ten feet or so along the long stretch, only interrupted by a few carts to bring coal to the boilers. However, that trouble would have been when Justin was in his usual lazy mood. Right now, he was hands down absolutely positively pissed off.
“TAKE HIM DOWN!”
That call was enough for Justin to realize that he shouldn’t be standing in the open, so instead he charged. With a few quick steps and a great leap over the heads of the men he had just downed from his door breech, he pointed the muzzle of the shotgun directly below him, pulling the trigger the moment he was directly over them the deadly balls of lead raining down on the heads of the scum.
From this moment on, the carnage was absolutely magnificent. There was not a moment where Justin was left idle the moment he landed. With another resounding leap, he jumped for the many pipes crisscrossing the room, swinging, jumping, sometimes flipping around them as he discarded the shotgun and used his right hand to start placing shots at anyone who had strayed too far from cover. The men below could do nothing but try and get a clean shot on the monkey man, jumping from catwalk to catwalk kicking and shooting his way across the room as bodies started to fall down to the floor, sometimes pinning the occasional unlucky goon.
“SOMEBODY SHOOT THAT SON OF A BITCH!” he heard someone call, but there was simply too much disorder for it to do much good.
As pistols emptied it came down to swords and blunt weapons, even fists in dire situations as the cowboy in a flying rage jumped from cover to cover, bounding off walls and even off bodies. Bones cracked, skulls filled with holes, and screams of pain and panic echoed all over the engine room, the heavy steam engines barely audible over the noise of it all.
Still, Justin was not in his right mind either. Had he been facing off against seasoned marines, or any other organization that mad some real semblance of rank structure, he might not have fared as well. For the moment his tactics were working. The slavers, men who gained power through abuse and fear were getting a piece of their own medicine, a double dose in fact.
To get some semblance of order and any sort of advantage, men began to jump from the catwalks, regrouping below where the sniper would have to take them all on at once. That suited him just fine, as his smaller revolver finally ran dry of shots, its muzzle smoking profusely. With a quick spin around his finger he holstered it, jumping below as he met the group head on, bringing his bayonet clad rifle to bear. With a shot still ready in the chamber he fired it from his hip as he sprinted at the group, one poor soul in the front catching it in the kidney as the rest stampeded over him.
When they met it was like a freight train hitting a Vespa, but not in the way you would expect. Winding his rifle back like a baseball bat and following through with one arm he destroyed the front line of the attack, the bayonet on the end slicing through flesh and scraping bone. Still, the others came forward without regard to the situation, and spinning his rifle around his arm the sniper created a formidable parrying shield.
With one side covered he pulled his heavy revolver from his hip, pulling back on the hammer and trigger just as fast as he was able. At point blank range the revolver blew men back, the bullets screaming through several bodies before ricocheting off something metal behind them. Once empty, he one handedly holstered the heavy revolver, now using his legs like battering rams as he made hops and skids, using his upper body to thrust and slash with his rifle, even using the blunt end to crack a few skulls.
A few minutes later, it was all over. The dead littering the floor as the dyeing screamed in pain or began to breathe their last breaths.
And then, one by one, Justin began to execute them. Reloading his pistols when he needed, he planted a single round into heads as they begged for mercy. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood and burning coal as the engine room started to become deadly quiet. The wounded who could play dead did so, the ones who managed to sneak away did as well, but most of them had perished. Soon Justin had come to the last remaining guard who was holding his side as a stab wound slowly leaked blood from his body.
“Any last words?” asked Justin, only giving him that satisfaction as he had to pause to reload his revolver.
“You really think you’ll make it out of this alive? You’re messing with something you know nothing about.” He wheezed, grinning from ear to ear.
Justin said nothing, only calmly loaded in the first round as the wheel of the revolver swung out with a click.
“Who do you think you are? Fisher Tiger?” he coughed, looking up with a shit eating grin.
“Don’t know who that is.” replied Justin, his voice cold, unfeeling.
“Course you don’t. Your just a know nothing goodie two shoes. Fucking with a world Noble is as good as a death sentence kid.”
“I’ll live longer than you.”
The scum chuckled as Justin loaded in the last round, spun the cylinder and twitched his hand to the right, clicking it closed.
“All this for a bunch of sla-“
The first shot slammed into his gut, if he thought he would get a quick death, he was mistaken. The next went up slightly, catching him right under the lungs. And slightly up each shot went, fired slowly, so the man would feel every ounce of pain just before the last shot hit his heart, sending him to hell.
It was only a few short moments of silence as the last ringing of the shots reverberated off the walls when the distinct thud was heard, Justin turning towards it slowly, confident he could meet any challenge now.
But in that moment he found nothing but horror. It was at this moment that Donner had returned, a large chest of gold at his feet as the Cannon man looked on, stunned, as if he had just witnessed a murder. In truth, that’s might be exactly what he had just seen. They looked at each other for a moment, unable to move, wondering what the other might say. This was not something Justin had wanted anyone to walk in on, the only consolation being that if it had been Kallie he would have regretted this for the rest of his life. He might anyway. What Justin had just done was nothing short of a massacre.
The sniper gulped, keeping any sort of weak emotion from escaping, knowing now, more than ever, he had to finish the job he had started.
“You saw them?” he asked, knowing that would be enough.
He received no real reply, but the look on Donner’s face assured Justin that he had.
“Take the gold to the ship. Heard any of the surviving crew up top and get them off“
And that was it. It was all Justin could muster before he motioned Donner to the door, who for a second or longer could do nothing but stare. Once he picked up the chest and was gone, Justin went to work doing what he did best.
As he made his way back to the main deck of the ship he did not look back. Though the run in with Donner had spooked Justin, he was by no means ready to calm down. No, he had gotten his blood, but what he really wanted was revenge.
“15 Minutes.” Said Justin, a tiny Den Den Mushi in his hand as he strode quickly for the front of the ship.