"Commander…" Captain Decoja snarled over the small holoscreen Drakken had borrowed from Lago. "…if you've called to negotiate surrender, I think it's too late for…"

"Shut up, bonehead." Tharcourt interrupted. The raider chieftain drew back a bit in shock and anger. "Just called to say that you're boarding teams aren't doin' so hot, captain. If this is the quality of your men, then the image you're trying to project is a bit ambitious." He grinned superciliously.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I was you, kricking Imp." The pirate growled. "I still have two war parties inside that hulk, any one of which can rip apart a platoon of your pissant stormtroopers…and they have. You people are corpses!"

"Well, we'll just have to put your bragging to the test then." Drakken returned. "Want to let the passengers go?" Decoja laughed balefully.

"Hell no. After what you pulled, I'm gonna blast every escape pod that ship fecalates through it's rusted sphincter." He leaned in closer to the screen. "I still have a wing of fighters juuuussst waiting for you people to try and get away."

"You are a master tactician and a benevolent leader, captain." Tharcourt said. "And you can go suck a swamp serpent, you chuff-sucking parasite." With that, Drakken turned off the device. He looked over to see Freya and Daraay staring at him, and he shrugged. "What? I think I got my point across." He drew his commlink. "Be advised, two groups are on board. Enemy fighters are standing by in our area." He looked back at Freya. "Sometimes you have to piss the other guy off to get him to show his hand."

The partisans' war party crept down the corridor, their weapons at the ready. It was beyond a fact now that somewhere on this ship was a small contingent of Imperial troops, likely stormtroopers, and that the murderous but poorly-trained Imps had somehow killed not only the group that was supposed to hijack the liner, but the first boarding posse as well. These raiders were ready for a fight. They all wanted nothing more to tear the Imps limb-from-limb, and rid the galaxy of the Imperial plague. The fact that each would get their share of the weapons and valuables aboard only motivated them further, so they pressed on into the massive ship.

Up ahead, the corridor opened into a large room used for Tourist-Class activities. The raiders paused and turned toward the room full of benches, chairs and an electo-organ. A lone stormtrooper was sitting in an armchair, a glass of wine beside him on a small end table, and a cigarra sticking out from the vent grille on his helmet. They aimed their blasters and began tearing the stormtrooper, the room and the furniture to shreds. Paintings were blown from the wall, benches were wrecked, and the organ would never play again as they made sure that the Imp was thoroughly dead, and no others were hiding nearby. One by one, they ceased their fire and looked on at their work. As they watched the empty helmet fall from the vacant suit of armor, the bucket clattering on the floor, none of them noticed the two thermal detonators tossed around the corner nearby, nor the grenades rolling down the hall toward them.

The explosion downed three of the seven marauders immediately. The others were thrown to the deck, but soon recovered. One let out a primal scream, and the others followed suit. Two of them pulled vials of powder from their vests, and inhaled the dust, a mixture of nysellin, amphetimines and glitterstem spice. They let out shrill whoops, pounding their chests with their blasters, and the four fighters ran up the hall firing blindly.

"Steady…" Felian spoke low over his helmet's integral microphone. The sound of firing blasters was coming closer as he leaned against the frame of the hatch, inside one of the staterooms. He could now make out the sound of boots running in the corridor. "Execute." He pressed the button next to the door, and it slid open. Felian swung out from the hatch at the same moment Mets, Coleth, Lago and Ekks emerged from four more rooms in the hall, all turning toward the enemy, who now had their backs to the Imperials. For a few seconds, the entire corridor seemed to be a cloud of bright red light. The troopers ceased fire, and ahead of them, the four intruders were barely recognizable forms, smoldering on the once pristine and polished floor.

"Second group down, sir." Felian said over the net. "Sector secured. Moving to rendezvous with Fifth Officer as planned."

"Good job, Rix." Tharcourt replied. "I'll let you know when to initiate our plan, or if I need you."

"I'll be standing by, sir." The scout sergeant said. "Third group is moving towards you. Try to take care of yourself and come out of this in one piece, commander."

"Unless I die trying." Tharcourt returned cynically. "Kopish, you're on."

"Ready and waiting, Commander." The ship's security chief spoke. Kopish stood behind a pillar in an area where a crew passageway opened up into a vista of large hatches leading to the forward holds. His team was poised inside hatchways and behind stacks of smaller metal containers. He looked over his contingent one more time before they engaged the damned pirates that were trying to take his ship.

His assistant, a human man named Kye Rebis, was behind a large water pipe with Yalaine Koss, another security officer. Both were armed with large blaster rifles taken from the boarders. They gave Kopish a nod. A Quarren, Pwosh Zeelg, the only nonhuman member of the shipboard security team, was in a hatchway with a blaster pistol, looking nervous but determined. Gisson, Forney and Haust, the three junior officers added to the roster for this voyage, were crouched behind containers, probably wishing they were anywhere else but here. Purser Cawley and his personal assistant Clea were in another hatchway further forward.

"Aim your shots." Kopish called out. "Don't just spray and pray. Got that?!"

"Yessir, chief!" Rebis answered.

"Aye-aye, chief." Zeelg said.

"Okay!" Clea called in a half-frantic tone that made the Clone Wars veteran roll his eyes. The mountainous Kopish heard shouts and whooping from down the corridor.

"Hold fire till they're right on top of us, then give them everything you got." He ordered. The raiders emerged from a hatch left open at the end of the hall, the hatchways having been left open in a strategic way to funnel the invaders to right where they needed to be. The group of eight men, all wearing shabby clothing and carrying a mixture of newer and outdated blasters, ran right into the security team. "Fire!"

The corridor became a chaotic scene of close-quarters fighting. Gisson stood straight up and got blasted in the chest by a raider. Purser Cawley shot a partisan in the back of the head at point-blank range, and started beating another in the face with his blaster when he was tackled by another wearing a stolen stormtrooper chestplate painted red. Zeelg pulled the trigger on his pistol as fast as he could. Two of his bolts hit a raider in the shoulder and the abdomen. Haust shot one of the attackers in the leg, but the wounded marauder killed the young security officer with a blow to the head from a spiked club. Clea watched her boss grappling on the deck with his assailant, and she finally worked up the courage to point her DH-23 blaster pistol at the bandit's back and fire three times. Cawley rolled the man off of him, and looked up in time to see the black-haired woman get shot in the chest with a disrupter rifle.

Kopish took aim and shot one of the pirates twice in the chest, then gave him one in the forehead for good measure. The one whose face had received the butt of the Purser's blaster wiped blood from his eyes and turned in time to see the Master-at-Arms aim at him. Kopish downed him with two shots. Yalaine Koss had been shipboard security for two years, but had never been in a firefight. Now, the slender blonde woman found herself march-firing a DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle alongside Rebis. They pressed the remaining three raiders back into an alcove, and she momentarily froze, not knowing what to do next. At that moment, Forney ran up with his own heavy blaster, and as he and Rebis turned into the small space firing, Koss did the same, the three of them mowing the pirates down. Kopish surveyed the damage. Gisson, Haust and Clea were dead, and Purser Cawley was injured. At least they had stopped the terrorists. He drew his commlink.

"Commander, the pirates are wiped out. I lost three of my team, and the Purser's wounded, but we got the bastards." He stated.

"Good work, Kopish." Drakken said from the cargo hold. He wiped his face with his free hand. "Sorry about your people. You can move to your secondary positions now."

"Will do." The security chief said. "I'll close this hatch behind me. Sure you don't need more people?"

"Nah…we should be alright." Tharcourt answered. "They'll be sending more goons soon. You'd better get going."

"On it." Kopish replied. "Alright, you heard the man, get to the secondary positions. These pirates don't kill themselves." He thought about that as he watched Rebis and Koss move down one hall toward a bank of lifts, and the rest of the team start down a corridor heading aft; These thugs just had to attack a ship with that madman of an Imperial officer aboard. Maybe they were trying to kill themselves…

"So, captain…" Tharcourt said, looking at the partisan leader through the holoscreen with a smug expression. "…it looks like your little rebel teams didn't quite make it." Tharcourt paused to allow the enemy leader to grit his teeth in anger. "Geez…you must be running out of goons at this point." He smirked. "There a company…or some scughole in the Outer Rim where you order disposable minions, or do you put an add out on the holonet?"

"I bet you're proud of yourself, aren't you?" Decoja returned with barely-restrained rage in his tone. "I…can always…get more soldiers. My men all have a reason to burn the Empire, and they're willing to die to see it done. Are you willing to die, Imp?"

"I think I signed my life away when I joined up…" Drakken groused with a shrug. "Why do you hate us so much?" He asked like it was an afterthought. "I've met a lot of kriffing rebels, but none like you. None that murder a ship full of innocent people to steal a bunch of rocks. You're a whole new level of trash."

"Rebels?" Decoja shot back. "Don't compare us to those coward politicians and impotent dreamers. They kicked us out. Said me and my crew were too…brutal. Are they winning their little war? No, we will, by spacing every Imp we see…and the people that kiss their boots."

"At least you're committed." Drakken stated. "You're a murderer and a pirate, but you have your convictions. I'm still gonna kill you though." The captain laughed.

"Kill? Kill me?! You maggot, you think you won?!" He returned. "You're about to fight a karking monster you people birthed. You and your people are aaaallll gonna die. Make it easy on yourself." The captain leaned in close to the screen. "Give…me…those…containers."

"Nah." Drakken said, unintimidated. "I think I'm going to deliver those crystal things to our scientists and let them do…whatever it is they think they can do with them." At that, Decoja flew into a rage.

"Yooouuuu!" He roared. "You worthless meat sack! You Imperials want to destroy the whole galaxy! I'll tear the flesh off your bones and paint my ship with your blood! Turn over the crystals or I'll kill every child on that ship and make you watch!"

"Thought you were going to do that anyway." Drakken growled. "You being the lowlife kricking bastard you are."

"We are the ones who make the void bleed." Decoja snarled.

"You know what you need?" Tharcourt shot back. "You need to get right or something. You need to go find a religion, you and your whole damned cult. You need to go to that farking temple on Ord Mantell…and handle those snakes. You need to go stand on the landing pad out there going "hooooo…hoooo". That's what you need. You're nothing but a kriffing piece of garbage…" Decoja was completely fired up at this point, and cut Drakken's tirade off with one of his own.

"Get ready to burn, you and that smart-assed mouth of yours!" The raider chieftan yelled. "You, your soldiers, and all those passengers are going to bleed for what you did to Alderran, to Jedha, to us! For your transgressions, you've all signed your death warrants, and soon as this call is over, I'll slide the blade in myself!"

"Bring it!" Freya called, stepping into view of the camera. "I'd rather a proper fight 'stead o' this kiddie playtime." Decoja narrowed his eyes.

"You have a big mouth too, Imperial tramp." He growled. "I'm sure my men can teach you how to use it." Thorne cocked her head

"I don't bloody think so." She hissed. "Yer nothin' but a crazy smeg who eats schlanger!"

"Get ready for a surprise, Imperials!" Decoja bellowed, and ended the call.

"Hm. Think we went too far?" Drakken chuckled.

"Nah. A right lump o' insanity that bampot is." Freya replied. "Wot you think he's got up his sleeve now?" Drakken checked his chrono.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, we'd better be able to hold out for another hour and a half or so."

On board the other ship, Captain Decoja sat in the high-backed seat in the cockpit, wringing his hands in silent anger. He sucked his teeth and nodded in agreement with himself. Decoja swiveled the chair around and stared at the two figures before him. One was a tall, muscular man wearing a mixture of stormtrooper and old arc trooper armor, with durasteel bracers and a beskar chestplate to complete the ensemble. The man seemed to be covered head-to-toe in blasters and power cells, a veritable walking armory. The other lieutenant of the raider captain was a thin, wiry woman dressed in a fur tunic over a durasteel chestplate. The woman grinned through her wild tangle of black hair, showing her fanglike teeth, sharpened to points with a file long ago.

"We need to blast them, captain." The man stated with a strong accent. "I told you we should shoot them to bits. Turn every gun we have on them and turn that ship into molten slag." Decoja pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And the cargo?" The captain returned impatiently. "It would be destroyed, or those kyber crystals would be scattered into space for the Imps to recover and use anyway." He pounded his fists against the armrests of his command chair. "No, we're not blasting that mother-kriffing ship, Clash!" The blaster toting man smirked.

"Send me, send me." The woman said enthusiastically. "I can take my boys in. We'll skin 'em real good for you, Decoja. Skin 'em and bring their hides back." The captain held up a hand.

"Hold it, Ju'tai." He ordered. "I'm starting to think there might be more Imps on that ship than I thought, damn it. I just sent in three war parties, and they got six kinds of chewed up in there." He picked up a bottle of spotchka from the floor, jerked the stopper out and took a drink. "Gah…damnit, that kriffin' officer is really starting to get on my nerves…the bastard. Thinks he's so smart…" His two lieutenants shared a glance questioning their leader's mental state. "Send in my Black-Space Crazies." Ju'tai smiled ferociously.

"Oh yes, oh yes, I'll fetch the babies." She agreed happily, and left the bridge. Decoja looked up at Clash, who was staring at him.

"What? What do you want?" The captain demanded. Clash jammed an index finger into the palm of his other hand.

"We're down thirty-three men, threescore of arms, a Headhunter and a Y-wing." The armored man stated angrily.

"Those Y-Wings were buckets of dwang." Decoja returned. "And we still have over fifty soldiers and our fighters…and don't you kriffing forget our Crazies."

"Good name. They don't have a brain between them…after what the Empire did. They'll destroy the friggin' ship. Thought you didn't want that."

"As long as they don't hurt the crystals, I don't give a damn." Decoja stated.

"Well, you can go try to wrangle them afterwards, captain…" Clash offered. "…because I'm not going near those kricking…animals." Decoja took another drink of the spotchka, and threw the bottle in Clash's direction, missing the man's head by two feet. The armored gunfighter didn't so much as flinch as the bottle flew past, nor when it shattered against the far wall.

"Ju'tai will handle it, Void damn it!" The captain roared. "They're her precious little darlings! Now you have anything productive to add, or are you about to fight me for command of this company?!" Clash stood there a moment, and a small smile twisted up onto his face.

"No captain, just keeping track of our combat effectiveness…like I'm supposed to." He turned and started to walk away. Clash paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Just for good measure, I'll ready the Dogs of War."

The two pilots looked at each other and nodded. They approached the large ship from their position a parsec back, and escorted by two Headhunters, the shuttle came to a stop just beside the bridge of their leader's converted Corvette where it lay docked against the hull of the massive starliner. From the back of the shuttle, the pilots heard a loud bang, like someone being forcefully thrown against a metal bulkhead. One of the pilots winced in disgust. Nobody wanted the job of ferrying these lunatics around, and they had drawn the short straws this time. He looked back at the hatch. It completely sealed off the cockpit from the rest of the ship, but he still hated having them this close.

The Black-Space Crazies were a well-known and often lamented part of Decoja's crew. Former rebel soldiers, all twelve of them had been captured at one time or another, and undergone extensive interrogation by the Imperial military. Most didn't survive the level and intensity of the torture these men had been subjected to, and these had all come out of it crazed and senseless. When Decoja's fleet had captured the Imperial shuttle taking the men to be exterminated, and the rogue rebel commander had seen the ferocity and lack of self-preservation the prisoners exhibited, he immediately took in the animalistic men. Kept in this shuttle for just such an occasion, the Crazies were given spice and amphetamines before being loosed upon the enemy, the horde seemed to go even crazier when they saw Imperial soldiers and officers, sometimes killing them with their bare hands and partially eating their foes. This last bit made the pilot shudder.

"Where you want us to dock?" The other pilot asked over the network.

"Above where I am. Put in at a gangway hatch and turn the Crazies loose in there." Captain Decoja ordered. "Give them a good dose too. I want these Imps to look like red stains on the floor." The first pilot flipped a switch and pressed a red button. They both heard a low hiss as the mixture of stimulant, psychoactives and pain-killers was pumped into the cargo compartment in a yellow cloud. In a few moments, they both heard howls and shrieks emanating from the hold, along with frantic banging and thumping.

"Like caged lothwolves…" The first pilot muttered as he docked the shuttle with the cruise vessel. He lined up with the docking ring, and there was a slight jar as they made contact and locked. He pressed a few buttons on the console. "Alright, let's get them the Hell off of this ship." He threw a lever, and a maniacal round of shouts and laughter came from the back as a dozen crazed berserkers spilled out of the shuttle and onto The Princess Latania.

Kopish heard the screaming and hooting, and didn't know what in the void it could be. As he made his way down the companion way aft to C deck with Zeelg, Forney and Purser Cawley, the group heard the racket getting louder. Cawley shrugged off Zeelg, who had been helping the wounded purser along, and drew his blaster pistol. Down the hall came three men the likes of which they'd never witnessed before. All three were stripped to the waist, and all three were pale and sickly-looking. There the similarities mostly ended.

One wore knee boots with steel toe caps, had chains dangling from his patched and repatched trousers, and was shaved bald. Another's face was concealed behind a close-fitting hazardous material mask complete with steel tubing dreadlocks, and wore ad-hoc armor made of various mechanical and electronics parts. The third had bright green hair spiked into a ridge at the top of his head, and a long, open black vest and tall gauntlets bedecked with metal studs and spikes. All three were toting a blaster pistol in one hand, and two had a long, curved knife in their other. The third had what looked like a steel rod topped with a spiked ball. The four security men all had blasters in hand now as Kopish called out to the new invaders.

"What in the Void do you think you're doing, huh?!" He yelled. The three strangely-dressed attackers kept running toward them. Kopish fired a shot and missed, and one of the men hurled his huge knife, the blade plunging deep into Purser Cawley's chest. Cawley dropped to the deck dead as Zeelg fired, and hit the man wearing the machinery armor. The metal absorbed the blast, and the three Crazies rushed into the group. Forney was hit in the head by the spiked ball, and shot three times in rapid succession. Zeelg shot the man in the mask, his bolt striking the man's upper right shoulder, but the man didn't even acknowledge his wound as he stabbed the Quarren in the gut, then shot him in the head.

Kopish caught the spiked truncheon mid-swing and delivered a solid punch to the green-haired man's face. The psychotic berserker grinned and headbutted Kopish in the face. The security chief kneed the thug in the gut, then gave him a haymaker in the jaw. Finally able to take one hand off of the spiked club for a moment, he shot the armored brute twice in the head. The masked man saw the tussle happening, and shot Kopish in the side. The green-haired man then clubbed the chief in the forehead with the butt of his mace, and let out a triumphant howl as Kopish fell to the floor. The remaining two Crazies ran off down the hall, and Kopish grunted and painfully drew his commlink.

"Commander Tharcourt…" He called. "Come in."

"You got me, Kopish."

"We have trouble. A group of…I dunno what. They're not like the others. Killed my men and shot the kriff out of me."

"Cricking Hell Kopish, you okay?" Tharcourt returned.

"Huh? Yeah, just got the wind knocked outta me. The purser and most of my team are gone though…these guys are…"

"What?"

"I dunno, different."

"Kopish?"

"What I'm tryin' to say, sir…is they were like no man I ever seen." Kopish explained. "They're kriffin crazy or something, Commander, and I haven't got a clue how many there are." He grunted. "Look, I gotta get somewhere and get this hole in my gut looked at."

"You go do that." Drakken advised. "I'll take care of these new guys. Any description?" Kopish was getting to his feet.

"Yeah. They look like they just crawled out of a wildspace madhouse."

"Good enough for me. Take care of yourself…and thanks."

"Try not to get dead now, Commander." Kopish returned. "Out."

"Oh what fresh Hell is this?!" Drakken turned to the two warrior women in the hold, an exasperated expression on his face. The commander checked his chrono again. "Everything was going so damn well too. Karabast! It'll be over an hour before we get backup…if that captain comes on time. We can't jettison the pods yet, they'll get creamed…" He took a couple deep breaths, and Drakken's brown eyes flicked back and forth as his mind turned over the latest development. "A new force. Probably some of his best people."

"Do you think he has a commando unit, sir?" Daraay asked.

"No. Not him. Kopish said they look crazy. Could be primitives from some backwater planet. Maybe mercenary near-humans like Zabraks." He jerked his head upwards. "They're up on the passenger decks. Damnit! I see what you're doing." Tharcourt grabbed his commlink. "Felian, there's an unknown number of enemy combatants aboard, possibly going for the passengers. They look to be a better cut of killer too, so be careful."

"Yes sir." The sergeant's voice came back. "Do you need us to engage them?"

"No." Tharcourt said quickly. "They already took out most of the security team. Kopish and the survivors ought to be heading your way momentarily. Secure all hatches leading to the areas the escape pods are in, and when Kopish gets to you, lock the corridor down."

"Sir…that will leave you alone with them." Sergeant Felian spoke, a tinge of worry to his voice.

"I know." Drakken sighed. "I don't have a better plan at the moment. Just do it."

"Yessir." Felian said. "Locking down the corridors now. Affirmative. The Master-at-Arms is here now. He says he only has two people out, and they should be arriving soon." There was a long pause. "Good luck, sir."

"Out." Tharcourt stated. He turned to Freya and Daraay. "Sergeant, you have any spare anti-personnel mines by any chance?"

On the raider ship, Captain Decoja sat in his high-backed command chair, one hand atop a fist, his chin touching both as he stared at the starliner. If everything was working out like he'd hoped, The Black-Space Crazies were tearing the ship and its passengers apart. That meant that the annoying officer and his soldiers were probably on the upper decks, running around trying not to get shredded by the primal warriors. And that mean the cargo was probably undefended.

Decoja was no fool. He'd been cast out of the fledgling Rebel Alliance for many perceived sins, but being ignorant of tactics was certainly not one of them. The Crazies running rampant on the ship was a perfect distraction. If he had a shot at grabbing the crystals and beating a retreat before some Imp patrol happened by, now was the time. The silence of the bridge was broken when the large, bearded man sucked his teeth and sat up straight. He pressed a button on the console to his right.

"Clash…what are you doing right now?" He asked in a growl.

"What do you think, old man?" The lieutenant returned. "I'm getting my guns on. All of them."

"Good. I got a mission for you."

"I know." The heavily-armed man replied over the speaker. "Let me guess. It has to do with securing that precious cargo, eh?"

"Piss off…and yeah, it does." Decoja said. "Take your men and go fetch those containers. I'll call for the other shuttle to ferry them off, and we'll break contact and blow the Hell outta that kriffing ship.

"And the Crazies?"

"Ju'tai went aboard. She'll herd most of them back on their ship before we detonate the evidence. Now stop lollygagging and go."

"Don't worry." Clash stated from where he stood in the armory, surrounded by eight men covered in power cells, blasters and thermal detonators. He himself was now sporting four pairs of blaster pistols in holsters on his body, and two DLT-19 heavy blaster rifles slung on his massive shoulders. "We'll get your prize, pops." Clash shut off the comms. "You ready, my boys?" The room erupted a loud cacophony of barks, yelps and howls. Clash drew two sawed-off slugthrowers. "Straight on! Into the breech! Ho!"

Security officers Rebis and Koss quickly made their way forward on D-Deck. They were almost to the hatch leading to the escape pods on that deck when they encountered the Black-Space Crazies. Rounding a corner in the corridor, they two groups ran right into one another. Rebis tried to bring up his DLT-19, but an attacker in a spiked skull-cap shoved the barrel down and shot him in the head. Yalaine Koss was knocked to her back by a blow to the chest with a heavy durasteel club. Coughing, she rolled to her hands and knees and made a futile attempt to crawl away.

"Wooooooooo!" A heavily tattooed man with facial piercing howled, and brought the tip of an electrostaff down hard on the security officer's spine, pinning her to the ground and sending a surge of electricity through her body. Koss' back arched, the hapless woman almost forming a "U" as her uniform began to smoke. With a final jerk, she was dead, and the Crazy drew the electrostaff away. The others jogged off, while the tattooed man looked down on his victim as if he were regarding a fine piece of artwork. He grinned and made a satisfied growl before running off after his compatriots.

Drakken and Daraay planted the last mine inside the recess of a closed hatchway on the deck above the hold, the commander running the almost invisible trip wire across the hall himself and clipping it to the explosive. Then, as they'd done six times prior, they piled heaps of gears, chips, pipes, and other small metal and plastoid objects in front of the mine to act as shrapnel. After obsessively angling the device perfectly, he stood and dusted off his hands dramatically.

"Welp, that's the last one." He remarked. "Now let's get those bastards down here." Drakken walked to a shipboard communications terminal nearby, shot the lock off of the panel, and flipped a switch. "Now hear this…" He said, his voice reverberating through the entirety of the ship. "All passengers are on lockdown for their safety. That means you cretins aren't getting anything but exercise running around this ship…"

On the three decks above, four separate groups of Crazies halted and looked up, then around as if unsure where the voice was originating from. The man spoke on. "The only open passageways are on E Deck and the forward holds." Drakken winced at having to give away his true numbers, just to bait the enemy. "There's three of us down here just waiting to put you people on ice. Open invitation." The Crazies all looked at their comrades and around at their surroundings as their minds slowly processed the information; Three Imps…downstairs. Easy prey. The four bands of maniacal men began to release roars and screams, and all ran toward the nearest stairs or ladders leading downward.

Are you not entertained?! Is this not the craziest, most intense battle the team's been in yet? I'm sure you all can't wait to see what happens next, especially with the Crazies on board now. I'll have a new chapter up soon, so no worries. Until then my loyal readers, Cheerio! -Drake