It shouldn't have been a shock to them when the door to the warehouse slid open as if by magic. But Kirk still found himself involuntarily taking a step back, his senses reaching a "Red-Alert" phase as Spock and Sulu tensed behind him. The open doorway loomed before them like a taunting shadow, as though inviting them in to settle the score, once and for all. A final move. A final sacrifice.
Checkmate.
"Well, if that isn't a sign, then I'm not waiting around for one," Kirk sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning to glance at his crew.
"Gentlemen," he said with a stern finality, finding himself coming to terms with the fact that he could not turn back now. "We go to war."
It was a rather dramatic proclamation, as was his style, and well said none the less. They were facing off against Harewood, the man who had technology from that bastard Augment genius and whatever other advantage he stole from Starfleet. He also had some sort of blood lust that lead him to wish to harm their Russian navigator, for reasons unbeknownst to the harrowing crew. Harwood wasn't about to toss Pavel at their feet, as though he were a fluffy lapdog who tired of his toy. No, he would fight to keep the boy within his jaws, until they managed to rip the mangled object from his mandibles. The man was ruthless, and they had learned as much in the past few days. They weren't preparing from some kind of nasty negotiation - they were going to battle.
With one last sincere look at his rescue crew, Kirk straightened his back, centering the T of his shoulders and neck, holding himself with as much pride as possible. He was going to walk into that warehouse with his nose in the air, represent Starfleet with austere efficiency - and kick that guy's ass.
They approached the building like a flock of geese flying south. Kirk lead them at the point, with Hikaru flanking him to his right and Spock to his left. Both were crouched, taking calculated steps, their phasers clenched and crooked fingers ready to pull the trigger. The Captain waited until reaching the door to finally slip his gun out of its hip holster and aim it directly outward from his body, at heart level. He knew where he needed to shoot.
The second that his boots crossed the threshold, Kirk went reeling into action. A shot was fired, the current slicing past his ear with singeing accuracy. Immediately, he ducked and prepared his phaser, eyes narrowed and squinting as he attempted to adjust to the dark lighting inside. All that he could make out were shadows and the silhouettes of what appeared to be large boxes - the cryo chambers. Behind him, Spock and Sulu quickly shuffled in, each of them giving one last look at the Captain before heading off around the perimeter of the room. From what he saw in the moments before the phaser fire began, Harewood was a few rows from the door, standing as close to the middle of the room as possible. He was the only other life observable from here - everyone else was sleeping soundly in the cryotubes. So where was Pavel?
Jim began to pace forward, his keen eyes beginning to make out more of the room. He made it to the first row of cryobeds before the next shot. Like a prairie dog, Harewood popped up out of no where. Though his darkened skin and clothes made him appear as nothing more than a shadow man, Jim knew who it was right away from his stance. Even in war, he stood as though no one could harm him. He was too cocky for his own good, and Kirk knew this would be his own undoing.
The next few shots rang out in quick succession. Kirk dropped to the floor, using the cryobed as a cover, as Harewood released a few more waves of energy. They bounced against the warehouse walls, making the metal sheeting sizzle. In response, Sulu and Spock began to release cover fire from their respective areas of the room, but Harewood had disappeared. He was using the Augment chambers in the same way Kirk had - as an easy way to hide, though Harewood had the advantage again: he was already well within the rows of sleeping lifeforms. He was staked out and secluded.
Kirk was used to fighting in different terrains. Though there weren't many opportunities for combat while retaining the duties of being a starship captain, James Tiberius was no stranger to battle. From brawls in hick bars back home, to roughhousing in the dorm halls during stressful times in the Academy - even a few bouts of underground skirmishing to pick up extra cash when necessary - he was used to hand-to-hand. Add in the arms training from the Academy, plus dealing with Khan's violence, Kirk was prepped for this kind of thing. He fought in open spaces, close-range, around hordes of people, amid rocks on strange planets - but never in a warehouse of sleeping bodies stuffed into glorified crates. He was as prepared as possible, while still being unready. That was something he had yet to become accustomed to: every conflict was liable to bring new tricks, to involve different maneuvers, for the location to be a hinderance or helpful leg-up. James Kirk, for as good as he was at adapting, disliked so much change to take in all at once.
His mind was moving too quickly to sort through anything more than the important facts, however. No matter how uncomfortable he was with having the disadvantage, Pavel was on his mind. If they didn't find him soon and get him out of the soon-to-be warzone, the Enterprise crew could end up being very unlucky. Kirk had never been on a rescue mission that had failed before. Losing a man was one of the worst things to happen to him. He wasn't going to lose this one.
Funny how it took him getting into danger for Kirk to finally realize: this ensign was a man, worthy of his salt.
A taunting chuckle emanated from a few feet ahead, past three or four rows of cryotubes. He knew Harewood was playing with him. This was a game to him, one that was sure to be won. Assuming that he knew the man's patterns of psychology as well as he thought he did, Kirk could assume that Harewood had something up his sleeve. He wouldn't bother fighting if he didn't think he could win... and if he did win... Well, he would have an army of killer brainiacs ready to fight for his cause.
They couldn't let that happen.
Shots rang out from both sides of the room as Spock and Sulu fired their weapons towards the sound of Harewood's cruel laughter. The electricity was palpable, breaking apart the stagnant air of the warehouse. While bolts of energy cut past in phaser blasts, currents of adrenaline flickered through the air. Kirk scowled, wanting nothing more than the demise of the fiend who had harmed his crew, concrete proof that the nightmare was over. The war raged on.