"Calamity!"

Chapter two- "Banshee got back!"

Fair Warning Moving on to actual gun and melee battles, it pretty well goes without saying that this chapter is going to contain scenes of graphic violence, and my usual penchant of using colorful/suggestive language.
If you believe either of these things will offend you, do yourself a favor and don't read.

Disclaimer-
The Asconian race is the property of Daniel Powell, sadly unlike Thomas Doscher, I was unable to receive permission of use, but regardless, I make no claims to it. A few enemies from the game, "Serious Sam-The final encounter" are going to be in this chapter, and likely future updates. They are the property of Global Star software, and again, I make no claims to, nor am I profiting off of, them. That being said, please don't sue me.

-Fic start-

As soon as the Retribution's intentions to board became official on the pirate carrier, 'The one-armed scissor', proactive measures were initiated to ensure that whatever came to traipse through the air-locks would be greeted by a formidable welcoming party. The behemoth vessel's brig was plunged into an uneasy silence as those present watched the inbound white cruiser draw ever-closer to their own. Having personally observed the entire escort force drop like flies before it, an uneasy tension was uniformly felt. The captain, a tall, middle-aged man of severe features, was the only one whom did not allow it to openly show. After adjusting the front of his uniform which, in actuality, was a collection of black and dark purple robes that draped to the floor, he turned his head in the direction of his tactical officer, a dark Asconian. "Do you have a head-count on that ship yet, KirovauSs?" The lizard shook his head negatively before replying, "I think our systems have been...manipulated"
His superior arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'manipulated'?" After tapping the screen, KirovauSs replied, "This thing says there's only one person on board."

Not losing his calm posterior, the captain gazed at the terminal on his subordinate's booth. "This equipment was seized from the Alonian military, correct?" He asked. "Yessir." Came a quick response. "And while Alonia is a back-water planet, it does have advanced technology, correct?" He refrained.
"Yessir." "Taken that into effect, I don't believe that there's anything wrong, and if there is, I don't believe our little friend is the cause of it"
The Asconian paused briefly before venturing, "So...you think that there really is"
"Yes. One man on-board." KirovauSs shook his head. "That's absurd. How could a single man have possibly defeated our entire escort force?" To this, the captain turned and begun to walk away. As he did, he answered, "KirovauSs, it is my experience that nothing is impossible. One man can be a devastating force, should he apply himself. I am beginning to suspect that this is exactly what we're dealing with. Dispatch our second strike-squad to the air-locks. That should be a decent welcome-wagon." "Madness!" The tactical officer unsettled in his seat. "Captain Eos, I'm sure you're aware that two is our smallest strike-squad! There are only five mem"
"I'm perfectly aware of their numbers, KirovauSs." Eos interrupted him. "...And I have my reasons for issuing such an order. Now, do as I say, like a good subordinate should." A clear scowl marked KirovauSs' features, but he complied without opposition.

-Airlocks-

A sharp hiss pierced the silence as the first air-lock door slid to the side, vanishing behind the wall it neighbored. After stepping across the threshold, Calamity reached the conclusion that now was a good time to perform an artillery check. First and foremost, his gaze shifted to his waist, which yielded two weapons. The first, a bolter pistol, the sidearm cousin of the standard, Marine-issue Bolter, which currently gripped tightly in the rouge's grasp--both were keep-sakes of his original time-frame. The other weapon that his waist possessed was a bright red, diamond-shaped blade that measured nearly five feet in length and carried with it an odd, crimson luminescence that glowered about it, better known as 'Photon energy'. Gained from a recently colonized planet that's locale was in a 'completely' separate galaxy, it was known to the natives as 'Kaladbolg'. A rare, powerful and sought-out melee weapon, it was Calamity that basked in the victory of acquiring it.
The Kaladbolg had proved itself a worthy companion in the past, and there was the high hope that it would come through once more as it's owner approached the final barrier between himself, and the recesses of The one-armed scissor.

-The One-armed scissor-

Sargoth 'Lefty' Porth sometimes felt that he had the dumbest of luck. Born on the small planet of Jalelian, which closely neighbored Jurai, it almost seemed as though he was given no 'real' chance to win at the game of life from day one. Raised on a planet that's government had been thoroughly crippled, and the son of an infamous narcotics trafficker, circumstances seemed to more-or-less force him into a life of crime. Right up until turning twenty, he was small-time. Bank-heists, vehicle thefts, and an occasional statutory rape (as according to Jalelian's age of consent) assured that he would remain just that till he was eventually busted, however that all changed when a squad of Banshees decided to raid his hometown, and wound up recruiting him.

Even in this environment, Sargoth hardly found solace. Due to his being left-handed, the youthful Jalelianite was given the nick-name 'Lefty'. Where his peers were granted empowering aliases such as Hell-raiser, Obliterator, and Scavenger, his nickname left him open for immature quips such as, "So, do ya' jerk off with that hand, too?"

Presently, Sargoth would find that 'dumb luck' kicking in again when his strike-team was given the heads up that it was they who were assigned to be the first squad to engage the enemy. He hardly found it a coincidence when he and another misfortunate guard were voted to approach the airlocks, whilst the other three 'covered' them from the sanctity of stockpiled crates. It sometimes seemed ominously ironic that the very first room encountered after boarding the carrier was an octagonal cargo-hold.

Lefty threw his fellow guard a hopeful glance. Wyvern, as he was known, leered, but agreeably pressed a hand against the airlock door's control panel, not letting the viewfinder on his weapon falter. Just as promptly as five inches were cleared, a bright red pulse of hot energy descended from the airlock at a blinding speed, sinking directly into Wyvern's face. A hissing, like butter thrown onto a heated pan, took the air as the tactical guard discarded his blaster rifle and stumbled backward, clawing at his face. More namely, the gaping hole that cratered most of his cheek. "AAAAAARHHG!" He screamed in agony before tripping over his own feet and meeting the ground. His struggle held strong for less than ten seconds after falling over. The sporadic movement gradually slowed to a dead halt, quite literally.

Sargoth's terrified gaze shifted from his murdered comrade, to the perpetrator, whom had yet to move from his location. He was every bit as terrifying as the escort-battle had indicated. For a regular humanoid, the man that stood before him was of massive proportions, excluding his heavy battle armor. Standing at a rough six foot seven, his face, the only feature visible, was broad and chiseled, tanned to a dark bronze. A decorative scar begun just underneath the left ear and seared across to his right temple, navigating over the nose and completely blinding his right eye. Crowning the top of his head was a crop of individually spiked, jet black hair that stood nearly three inches. The heavily armored monster's thick lips jerked back into a grin.

"Hullo there, mate!" He greeted in a nonchalant tone. "AAAAHHHHH!" Sargoth shrieked while raising his rifle. As promptly as this gambit was made, Calamity's hand darted to his waist and produced the Kaladbolg. In the moment that the pirate's finger brushed along the trigger, his wrist was violently seized. Freezing completely, he let the firearm fall to the floor. Rather than relent, his assailant jerked him forward and heaved his bright red blade down, easily lopping through the limb that had procured Sargoth his nick-name. Locked in a trance of terror and disbelief, he became silently dormant. Calamity arched an eyebrow as he presented the brutally severed hand to Sargoth's face, letting it dangle by the middle finger. "Want this back?" He asked, his grin only broadening. That broke his victim's paralysis. Screaming in a contortion of fear and pain that he had never before known, the amputated guard turned and started for the crates, however he would only grow a mere two feet away before the iron-clad hand of his attacker snapped forward and wrapped around his arm, stopping him short.

Without a second thought, Calamity heaved his blade forward.
Easily ripping through Sargoth's protective vest, the Kaladbolg entered between the shoulder blades and exited near the sternum. Nearly two feet of the lethal instrument exposed itself from the front before retreating. With a determined expression upon his face, Calamity jerked the photon-shrouded sword in reverse, achieving a full retrieval.

As Sargoth's eyes rolled into his head, his legs buckled and gave out. With blood cascading from his mouth, he slumped to his knees and soon thereafter crumpled to the floor.

Looking over the fallen bodies of his first victims, Calamity took careful notice of their equipment. Had the two men not been panny-waists, in his judgement, they likely would have posed a threat. Both were outfitted in medium-class, caution purple tactical armor and equipped with high-ended pulse rifles. Though practically antique to the former UltraMarine, that hardly excused them from being every bit as deadly his bolters, or the Kaladbolg. Kneeling to acquire a closer look, Calamity examined the prone form of Wyvern. Though his helmet was open-faced, the guard's eyes were veiled by a dark plastic visor, which bore the purple sun of the Banshees at the right end.

The rogue shook his head slowly after catching site of two frag grenades at his waist.
"Boy, whatta' pain in the arse you guys woulda' been if only ya' weren't--" Calamity didn't receive the opportunity to complete his thought. His neglect in thoroughly checking the area after eliminating the immediate threats became all too apparent as two bolts of plasma collided into one of his shoulder-guards, leaving a uniform scorch mark behind as a momento. "Damn't!" He cursed while raising his bolter, railed slightly by the surprise attack.

"I just got this thing refurbed yesterday, ya' fuck-tart!" Calamity hollered before returning fire at nothing in particular. As quickly as his assailants made their move, they disappeared behind whatever cover they had been taking this entire time, and were nowhere in conventional sight.

For whatever reason, one of the guards, a man by the alias of Joker, decided to reply to his enemy's random front by popping out from one side of his crate and discharging a bout of laser-fire of his own. With this underway, the other two rose above their cover and joined in--all three firing in unison, but for some reason neglecting to aim for the head. Calamity's entire form listed in reverse as the squad's combined efforts acquired multiple contact points, but was far from falling. With his targets in sight, he swallowed his nerve, dropped to the floor and took aim on one of the three guards. Specifically, a guard commonly called Two-bit. With the barrage of laser fire safely avoided for the time being, he sparred an extra few seconds to place appropriate aim on the pirate's face before pulling the trigger.

A single bolt erupted from the barrel and met perfectly with the jaw of it's intended victim, blowing it and much of the area that yielded his nose away. Two-bit's arms flailed as he lost balance and landed back-first against the ground with a dull, but audible wunt, dying immediately thereafter. The death of their fellow space-pirate had not gone un-noticed to the last two squad members, but rather than throw caution to the wind, they seemed to assume the offensive with a more renewed passion. As one approached Calamity, the other completely cleared himself from his cover, as to gain a better view. In response, the rogue, still planted to the ground, retrieved the Kaladbolg from his waist and recovered to a crouching position. "Alright, mate. If it's up-close and personal ya' want..." He remarked as Joker drew closer, his rifle firing madly, and yet still failing to result a head-shot.

The plans of a counter attack were initiated earlier than anticipated when a plasma bolt sizzled past Calamity's head and collided into the wall behind him. Subsequently, the rogue lost his mindset and lunged forward, horizontally feigning his blade. Unprepared, the guard staggered in reverse as the photon sword seared across his stomach, cutting a large portion of his body armor away, but fortunately for him, not distributing any damage. Calamity did not allow his failure to slow the onslaught down. After crouching below a series of plasma blasts from the secondary enemy, he diagonally thrust his arm out, landing a likewise slash across the chest of his initial opponent. Expressing his pain through an audible holler, Joker staggered backward and hit the ground, his wound too great to persist in the fire fight.

As the victor fell back, he was abruptly jostled by another laser assault. Calamity's head snapped in the direction of the last remaining threat, whom cautiously stepped in reverse while firing. Sidestepping the second bout of gunfire, he extracted the bolter pistol from his waist and cleanly relieved it of three rounds. The first met with the guard's chest, it's follow-up fatally nailed him on the point of his chin, and the final hit home on the stomach, assisting to sling his lifeless form to the ground. Calamity bore a smug expression upon his face as he returned the sidearm to it's rightful place. "Well, that was an invigorating lil' warm up." He remarked, finally allowing his muscles to relax. The rogue's train of thought was snapped and he quickly tensed back up when a drawn out groan arose from the vicinity of the floor.

Whirling around, he was met by dead air. Or at least it would appear that way, till his gaze dropped, directly to the mortally wounded Joker. A hand clasped over his chest, the pirate squirmed and struggled, as if attempting to out-maneuver the impedance of death. Caught in mild interest, Calamity ventured toward him. "Well, well, well, I almost forgot 'bout you..." He mused while closing the distance. Joker's movements seemed to grow faster upon noticing this. "Pretty nasty gash ya' got yerself, there." Came a snide comment.
"F...Fuck you." He shot back. "Awww, looks like somone's a little cranky after getting cut down..." A massive, white boot rose and positioned itself directly over his head. "Well, don't you worry 'bout that sliced chest one lil' bit, 'cause I intend to make you forget all about it..." A malicious grin broadened Calamity's features before he furiously stomped, crushing his victim's head underfoot. The torso jolted upon impact, and thereafter settled.

After cleaning the blood, brains and crushed combinations of metal and bone from the sole of his boot, Calamity scanned the room. "What kinda' genius designed the cargo hold to be right next to the airlock?" He queried to a phantom audience whilst approaching an accumulation of steel crates. "...'Cause I'd like to thank whoever did." Gripping both hands around the uppermost crate, the rogue slung his prize to the floor and busted the digital combination lock recessed on top.
"Passcode accepted." A recording replied to the crate's assault, subsequently swinging one of it's sides outward.

Boring the facial expression of a child whom had just awoken on Christmas day, Calamity jammed a hand into the crate's contents and produced a bag, loaded nearly to the seam with a white, powder substance.
"Eh?" The rogue muttered, his persona quickly fading. "What the bloody 'ell is this? Drugs?" After turning it over, black stenciling across the limpid surface reading, "Valkerie" was revealed.

Calamity scowled while plopping the bag back to it's predecessor location. "I'm one of the Emperor's finest!" He huffed, "I can't do anything with this crap!" His eyes shifted toward a sliding door at the right of room, neighboring the airlock. "They must be keeping the good stuff somewhere else..."

-Brig-

Captain Eos had watched the life signal of each member on the thirteenth strike squad vanish from the terminal screen one-by-one, silently astonished. The total elapsed time it took for one man to bring down five armed and armored tactical officers--seven minutes and thirty nine seconds.
KirovauSs looked toward him. "Captain..." He begun in a hopeful tone, "There's still time. We can still pull a full evacuation and grab some of our more pertinent cargo before"
"Before what, KirovauSs? Before this man destroys us?" "Precisely." The Asconian replied. "I have had an ominous notion from the second that ship came inbound for us, and so far everything that has happened is confirming it"
"And just what it is it confirming? What is this 'notion' you've gained"
A solemn, panicked expression flushed over the cold-blooded creature's eyes before it replied, "My notion...is that whatever boarded our ship is far from our understanding, and even more distant from our capabilities. If an evasive move is not made now, we will not receive the opportunity later."

Eos' eyes cut. "Deploy the first and third squads into the corridors." He promptly ordered, utterly disregarding KirovauSs' heart-felt plea. "WHAT?" The tactical officer bolted from his booth. "You're crazy! Those are our last strike teams, our only fighters! What will we do should they be defeated?!?" The captain rested a hand on his subordinate's arm. "Peace, KirovaSs." He stated calmly. The Asconian relaxed slightly, but maintained the same look in his eyes. "You speak of no knowledge that I am unaware, and no result that I have not considered." Casting his back to the lizard, Eos begun to venture toward the brig's exit. "...And just where are you going?" KirovauSs called after him. Without turning or, for that matter, even pausing, the skipper replied, "To the labs. There's something I need to observe"
"And what am I supposed to do?" "Exactly as I told you, KirovauSs. Dispatch the remaining squads, and keep a close eye on their status." Before the Asconian could question or protest further, the out-going door slid to a full close, his commander disappearing behind it.

The brig was enveloped in a heavy, eerie silence after Eos vacated the premises. KirovauSs slumped into his seat, feeling his fate drawing closer by the second, and completely helpless to stop it. What few crew members occupied their booths did not dare to utter a word, much less act, operated by the assumption that the tactical officer was every bit as lost as they. Yes, things had promptly fallen apart on The One-armed scissor, and wasn't a difficult thing to deny. After nearly five minutes of the silence reigned, KirovauSs spoke in a drained tone, "You heard him. Someone, get in contact with the first and third squads and tell them to spread into the corridors." The operation was adopted with the most understandable of reluctance.

-Corridors of the One-armed scissor-

The narrow, brightly lit network of hallways that accounted for more than half of the pirate carrier's space were of a simple, but clean design. Plain, white walls that were under-lapped by series of heavy, dark pipes surrounded a reflective, light blue tile floor. Overhead, columns of fluorescent tubes vividly lit every detail. Despite being an astronomical step over the dirt-ridden, rust-colored vessels of the forty-second century, which were built for functionality and little else, Calamity hardly admired The One-armed scissor's interior.
Truth be told, after ten solid minutes of navigating it's vast corridors, he had grown particularly sick of looking at it, and found himself wondering if this was little more than a trap designed for unwanted guests such as he. "First I was set up to ransack a drug-ridden cargo-hold and now this!" Calamity exclaimed half jokingly. "Pirate carrier's designer-2, Calamity-0"

A groan that was near to escape the rogue's lips upon reaching the fifth three-way intersection died quickly when a directory sign slid out from a slot in the floor where the tri-fecta of halls met.
In a consistently scrolling digital text, it read, "Hall 1- Airlocks, Cargo hold #1, Hall 2- Brig, Armory, Cargo hold #2, Crew quarters, Hall 3- Laboratories, Launching bay." Where the second cargo hold located in hall two sounded more than desirable to drop by, the armory, brig and crew quarters that accompanied it were far from being rewarded with a similar view. Rather than allow his mind to be captivated by it, something else on the directory caught Calamity's curiosity, and required a double check to assure that what he read was correct. As his eyes scanned over the rolling words, he muttered to himself, "...What the bloody 'ell would Space pirates want with a laboratory"
That question would inevitably drag him in the destination's direction.

-Elsewhere within the corridors-

A bareheaded squad-leader took the frontline of his fifteen-man team, a clear look of consternation creasing his face. Personally, he hadn't heard much about this new threat, but it was more than easy for him to assume that it was something formidable, should it have been capable of breaching The One armed scissor to this extent, and in such a case, being a leader was the crappiest job imaginable. With one hand gripped inordinately tight around the hilt of a tazer rod, and the other resting on a waist-strung pistol holster, his eyes darted around behind the infrared lens of night-vision goggles, till noticing that one of the eye-pieces were digging uncomfortably into his face. Grumbling about the improper sizes of issue equipment, the squad leader ordered a halt to the trailing company and momentarily dropped his personal guard to adjust the offending eyewear.

It seemed a daft irony that Calamity had chosen this exact moment to round the corner of the corridor, bringing him face-to-face with the leader. The two remained stationary, locked in a surprise-stricken staring contest for some time, and likely would have persisted, had a voice from the back of the strike squad not called out, "Frag him!"

Disengaging his eyes from Calamity's, the squad leader swung the tazer rod over his head and brought it down, achieving a direct blow to the top of the skull. "OOWWWWWWW!" The afflicted hollered while falling to his knees. The vast amount of voltage that coursed through his body failed in disabling him, and seemed to cause his attacker to double his efforts. After resting a hand on the giant shoulder guard of his opponent, the leader repeated the over-handed strike, laying the broadside of his electrical weapon into various points on Calamity's head. With each successful hit, the rogue either grunted, or used near comical choice phrases.

After what must have been the seventh strike connected with the side of his head, Calamity decided he had endured enough. Just before the next coming swing could establish contact, the hand of it's target shot out and seized the tazer by it's tip. With a powerful jerk in reverse, the melee weapon was sent flying into the corridor's break, nearly taking it's user with it. Easily restraining the leader by his collar bone, the ex-space marine smirked.

"How'd ya' get such a strong right-arm, mate?" He joked before hefting his former assailant into the air.

Dangling the misfortunate pirate by his clavicle with only one arm, Calamity produced his bolter pistol, discharged a single round into the abdomen of his target, then flung him to the side.
An audible SPLAT shortly followed, indicating a full, unpleasant contact with the wall.

More mesmerized than afraid, the strike squad gazed at the prone form of their leader, a mere shadow of his former self. Crumpled against the section where the wall met the floor, a wide hole dominated most of his midsection, venting intestines across the floor. A smathering of blood and crushed brains smeared the point of his head-first, high velocity collision, and slowly ran down it's once clean, white surface.

Not allowing the startling counter-attack to falter, Calamity quipped over the silence, "Lobotomies are goin' cheap today!" The remaining tactical squad wasted no time for the comical remark to sink in, and opened fire just as promptly.

A barrage of the, by now, familiar red bolts disgorged from the base of the front line and assumed a rough spray pattern for their destination. Rather than attempt to evade, Calamity dipped low and seized the deceased squad leader by his shoulders, then recovered. This feat was accomplished in just enough time for the laser-fire to sink into the back of a target of another kind.

The leader's corpse, which had yet to lapse into Rigor Mortis, flailed and jostled about as the numerous beams burnt into his shoulders, but failed to be completely impaled. In comparison with Calamity's bolter, the kevlar vest suited across his torso was doing a far better job of absorbing the squad's blasts, and enabled the rogue that it protected to take his time whilst venturing for the corridor's turn. A single frag grenade was liberated from the human shield's belt before he was flung to the floor like yesterday's garbage.

Bolting around the bend the moment that his crude cover was discarded, Calamity pressed himself against the wall and watched another descending cloud of lasers pelt his former location, leaving numerous scorch marks behind as ugly momentos. "Hold it! Cease fire, cease fire!" A voice called from the neighboring corridor. In effect, the gunfire dulled from a torrent of crimson beams, to light runs of waves, and eventually a full halt.

"Alright, tough guy!" The speaker continued, "We know you're right behind this hall, and we're giving you a choice. Drop your weapons and come out, hands behind head, or make us come after you, either way, you're screwed!" Unfazed and even less amused, Calamity retorted, "And what makes ya' so sure you can handle me, mate?" "...Because..." The voice replied, "We have reinforcements bringing up your rear, and they'll be here any minute. By that time you'll be out-manned at least thirty to one, and no place to run!"

A brief silence reigned before there came a response, "Well, then...I guess that leaves me with my only trump-card..." "Oh, really, and what would that be?" In acknowledgement to the question, not to mention that squad's unannounced advance, the recently acquired frag grenade bounced into the center of the corridor. Before a warning could be called, the hand-held explosive erupted, violently rattling the immediate area and crippling more than half of the opposition's populous.

With the onslaught in full swing, Calamity bore his bolter rifle with one hand, gripped the Kaladbolg in the other, and ran around the corner.

The hall entered was left in bad shape in the wake of his grenade assault. Select pieces of the human anatomy littered the ground and had gone as far as to splatter against the walls. Most of the structuring was missing sizeable chunks, and the once intact pipes lay busted open at particular areas, spewing hot steam. With no time to gather a head-count, Calamity rushed forward and proceeded to hack his blade into the shoulder of the nearest sentry, easily ripping halfway through his chest. The lethal tool would be retrieved in just enough to time to be once more thrust into the chest of another approaching guard, impaling his heart.

As the rogue fell back to plan a different form of attack, one of the few remaining pirates produced a mint green vibroblade from his boot. "Knew this thing would come in handy one o' these days!" He huffed before assuming the offensive, violently feigning for his target's head. Calamity let him come and stepped backward, rebounding every strike with the armor on his forearms.
After realizing that his redundant move was failing, the guard raised the blade over his head in preparation for a downward-cleave. Easily spotting the various open points, Calamity twisted his blade-baring arm around and thrust it forward, landing a jab directly into the throat.
Rather than pull out, the victor spun on his heel, proceeding to slice through more than half of the neck.

"Blast him, blast him!" One of the three remaining guards yelled in a panic. Subsequently, the deep red pulses returned with a vengeance, aimed directly for the head. Dropping into a crouch to avoid the fatal laser assaults, Calamity dashed forward with all the might his body could muster, and collided into the middle guard, running him down with all the force of an eighteen-wheeler. Like a gentle sea breeze, blood sprayed onto his face and right shoulder guard (the predominant point of impact), only proving to present a minor annoyance. Spinning around with the bolter armed, Calamity proceeded to cut the two remaining guards down, riddling them with high-powered plasma blasts.

Despite the threats consisting of the second encountered assault squad being defeated, the prospect of peace hardly reigned. Almost as promptly as the final sentry hit the floor, the third troop of pirates arrived.

Oblivious to the fact that this was indeed the last remaining obstacle, an agitated and adrenaline-induced Calamity brandished both Bolters in each hand and begun to fire them in unison, adding to the effect by hollering over the deafening blasts, "BRING IT ON, YA' PANZIES"
Various head shots sunk into the afflicted, collapsing multiple guards in sheer instances. In thirty seconds, half the number was a done deal, and no counter shots were fired. Two minutes later, the entire third strike squad was little more than a historical piece of space-pirate folklore.

Calamity stood roughly twenty yards away, huffing the tension out. "Now..." He rasped between breaths, "If I could get back to what I was doing..."

-Research Laboratories-

Captain Eos gazed into the giant bio-tanks of the east wing laboratory, admiring the site of his newest 'loot'. Detained within the container's glass confines was a menacing creature of severe proportions. Standing at a towering height of fifteen feet, a large, pulsating brain took position as the top-most feature, and was incorporated into a mechanical base that possessed a massive laser cannon on either side. Stemming from the bottom of the base was a pair of predominantly hydraulic-powered 'goat legs', which accounted for more than half of the height.

Eos smirked, enjoying the very thought of this half-biological, half- mechanical creature's prospects. "Soon, my children..." He spoke in a voice that seemed to equal the anticipation of his words, "Soon, you will be unleashed upon the known universe, and the Galactic Union will fall before us. The fame, the fortune, the power, it will all be ou--" "Dead...They're all dead..." The familiar voice of KirovauSs shuddered from behind him. Not seeing or hearing the Asconian enter, Eos whirled around in surprise. His expression quickly melted away upon identifying the intruder. "So, KirovauSs, you made "
The tactical officer did not directly reply, but continued on his own aimless rant, "The intruder killed them all...and now he's coming for us...and I..." He trailed briefly before picking back up, "....and I know why this happened..."

The captain arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Please, endorse me..." KirovauSs' eyes cut. "You want him. You condemned all of our guards simply to gauge his power, and now that it's in the open, you're going to attempt recruiting him..." A thick, heavy silence arose in wake of the truth, occupied by a fierce stare-down. The accusing eyes of KirovauSs bore into the cold, careless gaze of his superior. All to abruptly, Eos put his hands together in a mild round of clapping. "Very, very good, KirovauSs. I would have been slightly...disappointed in you, should you have not pieced it together by now." "You disgust me." Came a prompt reply. "This action possess no honor whatsoever"
Eos gave a nod of his head. "Indeed, you're right. The man with honor never achieved the goal life intended for him. But you, and your entire race is too ignorantly blind by it's sanctimonious pride to understand that in times of war and conquest, morals do not exist"
"You know nothing of the ethics of war if you're actually going to go through with asking this monster to join you!" KirovauSs barked a retort. "And whatever the end result is, I want no part of it." He whirled around and started for the exit, but was stopped short when Eos called after him, "Perhaps you are simply viewing this situation from the wrong perspective..."

The snide response died upon the Asconian's lips after turning, revealing the captain with a pistol clutched in his hand. "Perhaps you should see things from a new plane." He continued before discharging a single round into the face of his former officer. The blast achieved a direct hit between the eyes, slinging the lizard onto his back. Mouth agape, his limbs jumped several times before settling.

Feeling that words were not necessary, Eos branded a smirk upon his face before turning back toward the tank. His admiration, however, would not last long. Just as his mind begun to reflect over how he would explain to the more prominent figures of the Banshees of his being the sole survivor of a massive GP raid, the second interruption of the day arrived, assuming the form of a shocked, "WOAH"
Knowing perfectly well who it was, Eos did not turn, but greeted Calamity regardless, "Welcome, friend..."

Stepping over KirovauSs' bleeding form, the rogue replied, "Tell me, do ya' blow holes in your underling's heads often, or did this guy accidentally order anchovies instead of pineapples?". The power-mad captain snickered before answering, "No, he was being insubordinate. Termination was the only logical option. I would never kill one of my own without justifiable cause, Calamity." Calamity raised an eyebrow at hearing his name. "You know me"
"I've studied you with an unwavering interest. The stories certainly weren't disappointing..." Came a quick reply. "There's one thing that I never did learn, however...Just how long have you been misplaced from your own time?" Calamity's lips carved into his familiar grin. "Wow..." He responded. "When you 'study' something, ya' don't drag your feet...Ten years, by Human standards"
"Fascinating. Do you know why you are here?" "Well...at first, it was in the hope of liberating some new weaponry, but, ah..." His gaze shifted from the captain, to the large tank behind him. More specifically, it's contents. "I get the vibe that somewhere along the line, that goal changed without my knowing it...Mind telling me what that is behind ya', mate?"

Captain Eos' head turned in the direction of the large beast behind him. "That, Calamity, is the evolution of the Banshee assault squad." He replied, his voice swollen with pride, "A form of technology that we adopted from another galaxy. You see, the Banshees are far more than just an aimless crime syndicate that rapes and pillages. Our board of leaders consist of military-minded, tactical geniuses, whose prerogative are set for the fate of the Galactic Union. The creature you see behind me is the future of our army, and alongside it, Calamity, I would be honored for you to be a part of it...Join us"
His hand extended toward the rogue, whom eyed it suspiciously. After several intense seconds, he replied, "Sorry, mate, but it just wouldn't work out between us. My heart belongs to another." Eos' eyes widened as his hand fell, awestruck by the rejection.

"Besides..." Calamity continued whilst gesturing a hand toward KirovauSs, "If this is how ya' treat your followers, I don't think the idea of a career in the esteemed Banshee army would be all that glorious..." "Fool!" Eos exclaimed, "You belong to another?!? Do you mean to tell me that after all this time, you still consider yourself a number of that ridiculous, self-righteous religion-driven army?!?" A fuse was quickly blown. With faster reflexes than the captain imagined, Calamity reached forward and seized him by the collar of his uniform, then hefted him into the air. "Ya' gonna' wish ya' never said that, mate!" He declared solemnly.
"No, Calamity, it is you that will wish you never denied me"
Eos argued before waving a hand to the side, subsequently causing a holoscreen to materialize.
Taking place within the limpid window was a display of the airlock, to which The Retribution was attached. "In five minutes a lock-down of that particular wing will be initiated, sealing every in and out-coming passage. Following that, it will self-detonate, destroying your precious ship and stranding you here!" Calamity fell silent as he gazed at the screen, only able to produce a brief, "Oh...damn...." in response. "Of course..." the captain begun to venture, "You could arrive back at the point of entry in a relatively short window of time, if you started on it right...now!"

His captor leered. "Another day." He concluded before dropping Eos and starting for the exit.

-End chapter 2-

Next Chapter- The explosion that ensues severely damages The Retribution and forces Calamity to perform an emergency landing on Earth. More specifically, the Masaki household. Still angered by his rejection, Captain Eos orders a small army of Banshee soldiers and a handful of his new 'toys' to eradicate not only Calamity, but whomever he happens to be boarding with in the hopes of sending a message to the Galactic Union.