Assault on the Dodger, The Gray King verses the Red Queen

[Juno]

It took a few days of planning and preparation, but it wasn't long before King was on a transport ship bound for Archos Verge. Or, to be more precise, and empty transport ship bound for Archos Verge. Normally hijaking a civilian transport was very complicated, due to the high C-Sec security surrounding it, but if you were disguised as the security, things suddenly tended to fall apart. Disguised as the first officer who enters the ship and does a security sweep, it must have surprised the other C-Sec officers when the shuttle just... Took off.

Countless lightyears later, King just drifted in space. He sat, between steel and space, in the cockpit, his boots up on the dashboard, staring into the stars. Down on any civilized planets, there were too many lights, and too much sound. But here, in the silent darkness, was where King thrived. He dimmed the lights in the cabin until they were completely off, and starred out at the Archos Verge before him. Stars, huddled together, in so many countless colors and sizes, danced before him. King actually could feel some emotion here. "Beautiful," he whispered.

He pushed his hair from out of his face. His plan was incredibly simple. King would wait in this ship with the distress beacon flared up like a hot sun, beckoning everyone near. A completely obvious and easy target for any self-respecting slaver crew, a crew which King would effortlessly outwit. Boarding the adjoining slavers ship, he there should be able to find the coordinates to the main ship. The "Dodger," as the captured OSD described it. Any new slaves would surely be brought there for inspection, then shipping all over the galaxy. If Chase had already left that ship, than it was most likely too late for him, but if he was still there, then there was still a chance.

Kings breathing slowed. He stared peacefully out at the stars. Soon there would be chaos, but for now, tranquility. This wasn't even boredom for the emotionless merc, this was the calm befor the storm, a time to be savored. His eyes lowered, and closed, his heart rate decreased into a meditative state. He was alert as ever, nontheless, and as soon as the slavers hit the ship with an EMP, he would be up and ready. But for now, he would rest, and enjoy the dark silence.

[Nova-FoV]

King was in the Red Queen's territory now. It just so happened that he managed to land himself in a system adjacent to the one where the Dodger comfortably made its lair. The ship that was assigned to that particular system sent a message to the Dodger letting it know about the new prey, then it headed in for the kill. It hit the ship with an EMP just to make sure that it was good and helpless, then hard sealed to the side of the ship and began cutting through the hull.

However, they were surprised when they cut through and discovered the civilian transport ship entirely empty. "What the hell?" one of the men asked.

[Juno]

The ship shook, alarms blared, and the emergency lighting came on. The sound of a plasma cutter tearing violently through steel reverberated though the hull, and a smile spread slowly and menacingly across King's face. He opened one eye. "Welcome to the darkness, gentlemen."

His hand, resting upon the controls, began to disable the ship, working through all of the safety procedures, and cutting through all of the defences. He placed the ship in 'refueling mode', where absolutely no energy was spent, not even the back-up generators. The klaxon died, the safty lights died down so dim that you could barely make out the outline of your hand in front of your face, and King laid back. He took a few more deep breaths to end his meditation, then opened his other eye. The one that had been closed for the past few hours, and now he could see almost perfectly in the pitch black.

Standing, King turned from the captains chair and walked through the door. All of the safety measures off, every door within the ship was open, allowing a little starlight to spill into the passenger bay, which was all the light he needed to see. Dashing into the room, he ran, low, and quiet across the floor. His trenchcoat brushed up against the leg of one of the slavers, which must have scared him senseless, but the merc took no time to watch. Quickly, he lept over a chair and into a dark corner, rounding to look at the slavers, wondering how they were adjusting to the sudden dark silence.

[Nova-FoV]

"What the hell?"

Suddenly the lights went off on the ship, leaving them in darkness. A few of them made panicked noises, but they knew better than to shoot blindly in the dark. One of them fumbled for a flashlight, but dropped it in his haste. At the same time, another felt something brush up against his leg and a slight wind breeze by. He cried out, stumbling away from the disturbance and bumping into one of his fellow crewmen.

"Pull yourselves together!" shouted a gruff voice, bringing silence to the group. He was obviously the leader of the boarding party.

[Juno]

"Pull yourselves together," he said. That gruff voice, King could see that this man carried authority. Experience under his belt, and commanded respect from those under him. More importantly, he commanded the level-headedness of his underlings, attempting to undo the terror that King had been working to put into their minds. He knew that, if he could get him to panic, they all would panic.

And so he paced, slowly, to the commander's back, standing tall, even, confident in the darkness. Reaching towards his belt and gripping the metal handle, he produced his favorite weapon. An archaic yet elegant weapon, and one that King related to greatly. A butterfly knife. A Spyderfly, to be percise, considered an artifact by todays standards. Most of these would be in shelves and boxes, but King kept good care of his, always assuring it was brand new.

As he approached his prey, he slowly opened his knife in a slow manner, making certain that he did it slowly and smoothly to avoid the clicks of metal hitting that would give him away. It flicked to its fully open stage, its steel edge shimmering in what little light there was from the stars shining through the cockpit window. He slunk up right behind the man, inhaling one more time, silently, so he wouldn't be caught breathing on his neck, and leaned in.

"... Are you afraid of the dark?" With that, he quickly had his blade glide across the throat of the man, but no pressure was applied. What he had now was a very long cut from shaving, but nothing lethal. It would even be annoying in any other situation, but here, in this dark room, it would have taken a man with steel in their spine to shake that off anytime soon.

Before anything else could happen, King reached up for his omni-tool and hit the detonate button on his omni-tool, and suddenly the cockpit was filled with light as the mine he set there went off. While attention was diverted there, he ran towards the hatch the slavers had put into the ship, and lept to the enemy vessel. He turned, quickly working with the control panel on the door, calmly but rapidly sealing the breach.

He waved to the men as the hatch sealed shut with an ominous boom.

[Nova-FoV]

There was a pressing, ominous silence as the men gathered themselves together, then suddenly, in the darkness, they heard a whimper escape the throat of their leader. This left them terrified. One man even dropped his gun. The terror didn't have to last long, however, because a sudden explosion in the cockpit left them blinded and dazed.

As they were recovering from the explosion, they heard the sound of the hatch of their own ship shutting. There was a beat of disbelief before the panic struck, and suddenly they were banging against the hatch.

Meanwhile, though the boarding party was all still trapped on the other ship, King would have the helmsman and a few others who had remained behind to contend with, and this time, he didn't have the advantage of setting up his own battlefield.

[Juno]

King took a deep breath, keeping more calm than those in the cabin sealed behind him. The theatrics weren't just for fun, he wanted them to panic, so in case any of them had any tech skills, they'd be too pumped full of adrenaline to use any of that knowledge. The last thing he needed was one of them to fix the ship and come after him, or even send out a distress call to the Dodger. Surprise was the only way he would be able to pull this rescue mission off.

He slowly spun his butterfly knife, flicking it back into the closed position and holstering it. He walk through the steel cave-like tunnels of the slavery ship, keeping his pace as quiet as possible as he tried not to alert the ship to his location. He was certain that they already knew he was here, and was probably sending some men after him, but that did not mean he had to make their job any easier. He was still the predator, after all.

It was at that moment that a metal door slid up beside him, exposing a rather surprised slaver. Without missing a single beat, King lept through the door, tackling the man to the ground. What ensued right after that moment was a rather brutal wrestling match. No punches were pulled, elbows to exposed parts and knees wherever they could land. Having enough of the fair fight, he scrambled for the pistol, attempting to bring it to bear with the barrel directly between the slaver's eyes.

[Nova-FoV]

The slaver froze, and despite his fear, he kept himself level headed as he looked King in the eye. It wasn't the first time he'd had a gun held to his head, and there was just never any way of knowing whether it would be the last.

A beat passed of eye contact, then the slaver's attention shifted to something behind King.

"Drop it!" came the voice of another slaver. If King turned to look, he'd find one other man, standing with a pistol aimed at King's head.

[Juno]

'Ah, that familiar feeling,' King thought. That feeling of a cold, steel barrel aimed at the back of his head. Not necessarily a pleasant feeling, but certainly a familiar one. He carefully turned his head around, not moving too quick for fear of antagonizing the slaver with a slug aimed at his brain. He quickly assessed the situation and was relieved.

The kid had made the mistake of getting just a little too close to him. A bad move, even if you were more certain to get a head shot. Depending on who was being shot at, skill and a level-head could make it very hard to get that shot.

Carefully, he put his hands above his head, slowly, nothing too aggresssive that would instigate a fight he wasn't prepared for. "Easy now," he said in his calm, emotionless voice. "We don't want to do anything stupid." He looped his thumb in the trigger guard, holding it up with above his head and showing how harmless he was. Or at least, how harmless he appeared. "Nothing stupid. Like getting too close to your enemy."

With that, before even a back step could be taken, he dropped his pistol. It landed with a loud bang at the slavers feet, and hopefully gave him enough of a surprise to work with. Stepping back, he brought his boot down on the slavers foot, hard, then put all his weight behind his elbow, and using it like the boss on a shield, slammed into the assailant.

Flattening him on the floor, he scrambled to the other slaver he had already grounded, and, in an attempt to keep him that way, produced his knife with a few snaps and clicks. He grabbed his arm, and aiming for the wrist where the armor was weakest, drove the blade right through it and through the grating under his wrist. With a grunt he twisted the blade with a three-pronged effect. It broke several bones, made it excruciatingly painful to remove, and wedged it in the metal grating under them.

Turning, he came upon the other slaver who had just managed to rise back to his feet. He closed the distance and cracked the bony part of his right palm to his left temple, knocking him over. He then kneeled over him, and put his right hand behind his head and his left hand on his jaw, and with a violent jerk, ended another life.

He had one more to go, though. Slowly walking over the the pinned slaver, he reached down for the handle and twisting it, ripped it from the mans wrist. He started to walk away, to leave the man to bleed to death, but then, not a fan of torture, he reconsidered. He paced back to the suffering slaver. He leaned down, taking his head in his left hand and looked into his eyes. Tears. An uncommon look in a slavers eyes, but a very common look in a dying mans eyes. Without a word of comfort, apology, or remorse, he took his knife and slid it quietly between two vertebrae in his neck, severing the spinal column and assuring a quick death.

While on the ground he pulled his pistol over to him and holstered it. Flicking the blood off his knife with a few quick clicks, he closed it and placed it on his belt as well. "How fun," He said quietly. "But I think it's time to find their base of operations."

***

With a little pathfinding, King found himself in the cockpit. Whoever was the pilot must have already died, and if not, he would take another look around the ship during the flight to make sure. It was simple, considering the pilot didn't enable the security system on the console, to look through logged flights. The latest one was here, obviously, but the one before that was tagged with the name "Dodger." He immediately recognized that as the flagship as described by the OSD.

He wasn't sure what to expect. It may not have even been the base of operations for the Red Queen, but it was a start. He would go in quiet, and leave with a bang. He set the auto-pilot to the coordinates and let technology do the rest. The rest of the traveling, at least. He would do the fighting.

[Nova-FoV]

"Ma'am, it looks like the Treadmill is on its way back. Should I have them put in at the usual airlock?"

Betsy glanced over at the communications man, her mind obviously on other matters. "Yes. Unfortunately, I won't be able to oversee the transfer of stock. I need to check on the financial mess our friend has gotten us into. Have Flashlight meet the Treadmill and make sure that the stock is up to par."

The man nodded and sent a message to Flashlight's comm, while Betsy whisked away from the bridge to go to the dark cell where they were holding Chase Lithum. It was time to have a talk.

[Juno]

Computers were a beautiful thing. They could fly a ship, identify the closest trajectory to a moving target, and dock on it with the operator barely lifting a fingerr. With a computer, a nation could collapse overnight, a man could cease to exist, nowadays the computer could even think if it wasn't illegal. As it was for the moment, however, he just had the computer do the flying.

Good timing would have it that the ship had just reached its destination when he came back from his search. He folded his arms and looked out through the thick glass of the ship at the Dodger. It was an impressive ship, that was to be sure, but was filled to the brim with slavers, making the whole thing disgusting to King. Ever since Elysium...

But the jaded man snapped out of it. Now was not the time for reminiscing, but for action. He had to prepare himself for the high possibility that he would have to fight off an entire corporation of violent criminals. He would have the advantage, certainly, in many fields. Surprise, technology, intelligence, skill, but sometimes sheer numbers could fight anything. He suddenly thought of how thousands of wasps in the wild back on earth could kill prey as large as bears. He would have to be smart if he wanted to survive.

"Hey, Treadmill, how's the haul."

Looking down at the console, King noted that this ship didn't have the usual hailing system, but could be overridden with a specific wavelength. The Dodger's, no doubt. This wasn't as planned. Jumping on him like this gave King less time to prepare what he was going to say. He could think quick on his feet, though. He reached for the console to answer.

"It was a bust," King said. "Someone must have beaten us to the chase." It was undeniably odd to see what just happened. What he had adopted was an upbeat voice that was in no way King's own, yet when he spoke with it, his face stayed as emotional as a slab of stone. He may not have used them anymore, but he remembered how emotions worked.

"Well, probably good that the captain ain't coming down, then. Come on in, dock 13... Say, are you new here?"

"Ah, you sussed* me. This was my first time out. Ain't gonna look good on my evaluation, huh?"

The man on the other end of the line laughed. "Don't worry, we're all entitled to a few fuck-ups, huh? Well, kid, welcome to the Red Queen Slaving Company." With that, the com went dead, and King resumed his old, emotionally dead persona. He popped his knuckles as he cracked his neck to one side, then the other.

"Welcome, indeed," he said.

*((@ Nova: He-he...))

[Nova-FoV]

Flashlight headed down to Dock 13, taking a few crew who weren't busy with him. Just as he reached it, he got a message on his comm from the communications guy up on the bridge.

"Go easy on them, sounds like someone beat them to the punch and they didn't get any stock this time around," he said.

The Turian froze and looked at the airlock where the ship would be docking. "If they don't have anything, why are they here?"

"Uh..." The communications guy froze as well. It was a valid question- after all, the other ship spent its time patrolling, and only docked when absolutely necessary. "Fuel?"

"We'll see..." Flashlight growled. He was suspicious now, and kept a hand on his gun as he waited for the airlock to open up.

[Juno]

As King finished the docking procedures and shut down the engines, King just realized he might have slipped up. He had no idea what the rules and procedures on this ship were, and taking trips back may not have been permitted outside of an unknown schedule. Regardless, he was already onboard, and not floating in space in a molten steel tomb that used to be the ship, so he at least did that right.

He stood, making a second check that he had everything and all was in order. It was, and he made the way to the airlock. A headache was brewing in his right temple, but it wasn't anything serious. He was certain he would be alright. He walked through the steel halls, reflections and shadows moving and flickering across the walls as he did so. It was absolutely nothing compared to the paranoia he would feel in just a few short minutes.

He found the airlock, but didn't touch the consoles. He would rather they walk into his potential trap, not the other way around. He stood there, looking at the door, ready for it to open at any notice. Slowly, he focused dark energy down his arm, collecting the dark matter into his left palm. His headache spiked in protest with his bionic implant flaring up, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. Certainly a worthwhile sacrifice.

Then, the airlock began to hiss, the pressures in and out of the shuttle equalizing. Strengthening his stance, he took a diagonal stradling position, shrinking the target he was by a significant factor, and bracing himself for the large kick his bionic would make. As the doors slid open, he threw up his arm and was met with a one-eyed turian. And a wide-eyed one-eyed turian right now. He had his hand on his gun, but no one could draw that fast. With a kick and the sound of space distorting and realigning, the turian and the boarding party were smashed hard in the chest by force of his push. They went careening through the docking bay, smashing into crates and walls alike.

Despite himself, King smiled. It was even a sincere one. The sheer excitement, what would nearly cause a normal man to have a heart attack, just barely activated King's adrenaline and norepinephrine and dopamine. This was his joy, what made him feel alive, and he was absolutely thrilled.

With a slight, uncharacteristic spring in his step, he went jogging across the dock, leaning to take the turian's radio system as he did so he may be able to read their com traffic and act accordingly. It was time for the game to begin.

[Nova-FoV]

A few moments after he picked it up, the radio came to life with a message from the same comm guy he had spoken to before on the bridge of the ship. "Hey, Flashlight, what do you hear from the Treadmill?"

The deeper he ventured into the ship, the more occupied he would find it. The corridors were crowded enough that if he acted like he knew what he was doing, he'd probably be able to fit in for now. Even when they did figure out that they had an infiltrator, they wouldn't know what he looked like until he made an open attack where witnesses were left behind. However, his disadvantage was that he had no idea where to find the special brig where they were holding Chase, and where the Red Queen was currently engaged in speaking with him.

[Juno]

"Hey, Flashlight, what do you hear from the Treadmill?"

King stopped, regarding the short-wave radio in his hand. He had to really swallow his pride not to say something spooky or mysterious into it. Of course, that would just be stupid, and give him away. He needed them to think that, even if there was an intruder, that he didn't have their radio. It was a stretch, but he hoped that whoever was on the other end of that com was dense.

He kept the radio on, listening to the 'hello's' and 'please respond's'. Useless stuff for now, but hopefully there would be some useful information floating around the intercom afterwards, including troop movements and alerts, so he could gague his response and retaliation.