The Takeover

"You really want that to work don’t you?!"

The muzzle of Ralph's revolver waved towards the sky.

"Of course! What part of "Water gangsters are currently aboard the Yarxong" escapes you!"

Tom's head dropped, weary from the events of the last twenty-four hours. He knew Ralph was correct. Somehow a detachment of armed forces had reached, boarded, and subverted the Yarxong's crew.

"We of the Norgean have commandeered the Yarxong. Your general has afforded access to the full passenger tally and our people have started a process to ensure the whereabouts of everyone aboard. So far you have done well not to oppose us. However…."

A break ensued, as though he had to ponder the next few words.

"To the gentlemen on level two….We see you. Should you attempt to engage us, well… your fellow patrons may come to harm. Please remember that fact. The last breath of each passenger rests on your shoulders."

The speaker crackled as a pause stretched through the space,

"To those now under my …care…"

Ralph started to pace the small storage area, not sure he wanted to hear what would come next.

"Prove you are more than fodder for the sea. Usher the pests that scurry about to me and rewards of safety shall grace your future."

A loud clack followed by a soft hum, reflected the end of the message that had just been broadcast over each deck.

Tom and Ralph had been on the run, the only two to brave the Norgean forces. They had come across other passengers, but most meekly stayed away from the more open areas once knowledge of the takeover was made known. So far none had opposed them, but there had been a few whose eyes eagerly gleamed.

“See, told you they would be after us. That just made our escape that much harder. Those greedy lummoxes are gonna be after us just to save themselves.”

Tom contemplated the accuracy of Ralph’s comment. True, the announcement could cause the others to treat them contemptuously, but he also knew most weren’t armed; at least not as armed as they were. Tom’s eyes scanned the arsenal before them. A snubbed-nosed shotgun was loosely slung over Ralph’s shoulder. He also wore a bandoleer of ammo and blades tucked under the folds of a Kevlar jacket. As Ralph fanned the carved snout of a Dragoon Persuader towards the port hole on the door, Tom allowed a small chuckle at the fact he had attempted to push Ralph to leave the trusty jacket, a lucky charm of Ralphs over years of battle.

Drawn by a sound beyond the door, Ralph nuzzled the Persuader along the frame. The revolver could change rounds from dragon breath shells to bullets, and punch holes through a meter of steel, an able partner. Tom’s own arsenal was just as meager and deadly. An analogous revolver rested nearby, as he recycled the energy chamber of a magnum assault blaster.

“Only one more charge, “ he thought, worry and doubt bubbled among concern for a safe escape.

Ralph and Tom had been battle mates for decades and normally a sabotaged stage would be a perfect realm of bloodshed. But here, they had non-combatants to worry about. Here, the enemy had forced them to react. There was only one way to clear the board. Go for the head.

“You ready yet?” Ralph calmly muttered.

Blaster synced and reloaded, Tom nodded.

“Take off the snake’s head?”

“Take off the snake's head.”

The door open they moved towards the steps unchallenged. No one seemed to be around as they worked through the lower deck's hall. Any eyes that peered through doors beat a hasty retreat; a muzzle or blade ready to greet them.

“Deck two clear,” Ralph reported, tones low.

A small gesture and the two moved up another floor. Empty halls echoed footsteps, but as walls gave way to open sky Tom and Ralph knew the struggle was about to get real. Sunbeams hampered stealth as the two made haste across wooden panels, but graced the shadows of troops as they entered a hatchway.

"They're headed back to regroup.”
The knowledge of extra forces caused Ralph to growl, “Snakes.”
“Easy Gunna!”
Tom was well aware of Ralph’s tendency towards bloodshed but for once he agreed.

A fast advance across the open space brought them to the entry and a peak up the steps cleared thoughts of prompt pushback. Barrels aloft they breached the doors gangway. Eyes alert, ears perked, nerves on edge; seconds reframed as hours reverberated the senses, as they tread forward.

“How can you not account for two grown…,” the man paused as Tom and Ralph entered unannounced,“...armed men.”

Before them stood a tall dark-toned man. Obscurely shadowed under the room's lamps; a long coat, old and tattered from years at sea, hung from broad shoulders. Unkempt bundles of mossy brown, lay flat atop the man's head comparable to a sea fern far from home.

“Gentlemen, seems our guests have graced us. We no longer need to hold the others hostage to garner regard.”

A gloved hand, an emblem. A serpent contorted around a set of serrated blades, rested on the nearby console as he stared; the crest of the Norgean Forces.

Weapons ready Tom and Ralph cleared the passage. Tom's blaster zeroed on the man's chest, as they entered the small room. He hadn't remembered the space from Ralph's recon work but knew the vessel had a few areas that could be converted. Ralph's revolver and a leaf-shaped dagger acknowledged each of the armed men, ready to be released at a moment's behest.

The man sneered cruelly.

“Your government actually thought two men could stop me? Every ounce of your cargo, human and stowed, belong to me. You’re out of your depth.”

Tom kept focus.

“Much can be done by flame forged troops. ready to remove threats …at all costs.”

Jaws clenched the man’s aloof demeanor dropped.

“Perhaps. But today, you shall draw your last breath Look around. You’re surrounded. No escape.”

Those words must have alerted a detachment of troops because no sooner were they uttered than shadowy shapes emerged from the recently cleared hall. Armed and ready, they stepped closer. Now the focus of dozens of barrels, Tom’s heart pounded, calm barely held. He and Ralph had drank tea amongst the petals of death's thorny garden season after season. They knew the toll battle exacted. They knew how to clash, how to endure. But today… today was far from normal.

The leader stepped closer, eyes locked on Tom.

“Surrender now, and perhaps the essence of your soul may be spared. Defy me and….”

Only the sound of waves greeted all who dared ponder those words. Then, as though commanded by those same waves, Ralphs rage exploded.
The bark of two shots covered the release of a blade that now called a Norgeans throat home. Shock held them, but only for a moment; and that moment was all Tom needed. He followed Ralph's example, as the blaster chamber erupted toward the console. Sparks flew, the panel burst, the Norgean's leader no longer centered amongst the crew.

Calm now broke, anger flared through the space.

“Stop them!”

The deck erupted. Tom and Ralph sought cover as rounds scored across the metal surfaces. Almost deafened by the sound, the scent of smoke and metal would have choked a mule. Ralph's shots rang true. Round after deadly round, he unloaded the demon Dragoon.

Where probable carelessness was assumed a blade savagely asserted heaven's repose. Tom knew how Ralph operated and darted from spot to spot, each move an orchestrated dance of laser energy ready to vengefully grant deaths cold embrace. Outmatched, outnumbered, and outgunned, they knew a plan was needed and soon.

Tom held back a yelp as a stray shot grazed flesh and bone. A funnel to force deeper focus, he knew they wouldn't last much longer unless a concerted effort was made.

Ralph cursed as ammo ran low. He normally kept a plethora of blades at the ready to compensate, but the human body could only hold so many. Luck must have been an ally because many of Ralph's opponents also now leaned toward hand-to-hand combat.

From over the scuffle a shout rang, “Push them to the edge! End them!”

Someone must have pressed a button because the walls pulled back, the upper decks now open to the carnage. Tom and Ralph were forced back toward the deck’s edge. The cold ocean churned below, eager to engulf any who dared enter. Tom glanced back, one foot now braced on the edge for support. There was no more room. No ground left to hold.

“You have nowhere left to run.”

The Norgean's leader emerged, rounds of shells slowly caressed by a shotgun's chamber.

“You fought bravely…for fools. You were warned. The Yarxong belongs to me.”

Ralph’s teeth flashed.

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged."

As the shotgun targeted Ralph, a rough wave caused the boat to rock.
Tom grabbed a nearby bulkhead, but Ralph; caught off guard, stumbled. Ralph reached; an attempt to alter a now downward trajectory.
The cadence of absoluteness slowed as Tom reached out, desperate, unsure. Raw and sorrowful, Tom's cry echoed as Ralph toppled overboard.
As he fell Ralph gave a goofy nod, a moment of transparency between comrades; and that was all Tom needed. The battle may have ended but the war was far from over.

The leader stepped forward, eager to destroy the duo known to be the world's best agents.

“One down. One to go.”

Tom’s rage burned hot. Alone, outgunned, he knew the odds. But he would never be easy prey. Not when Ralph…

As Norgean forces closed around, Tom prepared for a last stand. He would make them pay. Make them bleed. Make them know the true Essence of terror.

Unbeknownst to the Norgeans the deck of the Yarxong was about to become a bloodbath.

“You're lucky he was the one to fall,” Tom growled.

Eyes locked onto the leader as Tom snarled and fur began to protrude from pores.

“He granted you amnesty. A two hundred and forty-second stay before you are brutally and unremorsefully beheaded.”

As he spoke fear spread through the Norgean forces. Eyes watered as prayers were uttered at what they beheld. Tom now towered above them. A fur covered body of well toned muscle crouched to meet the leader at eye level. Fangs bared, Tom’s werewolf form leaned ever closer.

“You better pray to whatever god you serve that my partner returns….unharmed.”