Plot Log | "The Wrath of a Father Wronged"

Posted on 241407.27 @ 5:58pm by General Richard Sharpe

Mission: Insurrection [Fleet Plot]
Timeline: Immediately following "Battles of the Heart"

=/\= Holding Facility, Starfleet Campus =/\=

Proceeding through to the lower levels alone, Sharpe held his Sig Sauer in both hands as he moved along the wall, peering around corners as he proceeded along. The P229 Enhanced Elite pistol was light to hold, and deadly to his enemies. He'd fitted it with the optional tactical light that fit snugly under the barrel. The entire weapon had been customized by Sharpe himself, to fire 9mm hollow-point rounds in special high-capacity clips that held 15 bullets. In a holster clipped behind him on his belt, he also had his customized Colt M1911 .45 high capacity pistol. Both were from his own personal collection of 20th and 21st century weaponry, that by this time, he was well known for.

Given that this was a CQB based operation, he'd opted not to carry a combat rifle - preferring to use pistols, and if it came to it, his combat knife. Either way, he had plenty of ammo left in the clips on his tactical vest, and if needs be, he did have two photon grenades left.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted a lone guard, but this one was different from the others he'd encountered on the upper levels. This one was wearing full combat gear, and although he appeared to have the usual Federation phaser combat rifle, he also had some nasty looking gear on his belt and webbing - which told Sharpe that this guy had come prepared for a fight. So, they had reinforced after all, fully expecting him to come down here.

Wasting no time, he rolled around the corner, coming up to one knee, squeezing the short trigger on the P229 three times, moving his hands on each shot to place the shots. One in each knee, and one in the shoulder. Take down - not kill. He needed answers, and he really did hope this guy would accommodate him.

The guard went down pretty fast, with almost no time to react. He did yell out, but Sharpe was fast, and moved to cover his mouth. He held the struggling soldier in place for a few minutes, then looked him in the eyes. "Listen to me very carefully." Sharpe said, in a low, calm and deadly voice. "I will let you live, if you tell me where they're keeping the female prisoner. If you shout, I will put one right between your eyes, am I clear?"

The guard looked at the pistol that Richard had brought up to put the muzzle on the man's forehead. He nodded quickly, acknowledging that he understood. Sharpe removed his hand from the man's mouth, but kept the pistol against his head. "Where is she?" He asked.

"She's down the hall, five doors on the right. But they're expecting you. There's at least thirty of us down there. They'll kill you before you even get down there." The man boasted.

"And that was your first mistake." Sharpe replied, then pistol-whipped the guy to knock him out.

So, there was at least a platoon strength unit down there, ready for him, and fully alerted by the commotion above - which had been astoundingly easy on reflection. No matter, if they were following standard procedure, they were no match for a marine in terms of training. Security were trained to defend and detain, not assault and contain. Already Sharpe held the advantage that he knew their training, and he likely knew their kit. Standard UFP loadouts would have them using phasers, so that they could execute stun attacks if needed. Projectiles were things of the past, and easily overlooked. The real risk would be getting in close, as they might be as tooled up as this guy - who had a couple of rather nasty looking knives on his belt.

He knew that his energy dampener would take care of the rifles and hand phasers, but he couldn't assume that was all they had down there. There were projectile weapons that they could use, and he wouldn't make the mistake of assuming that they weren't prepared for any eventuality. He moved to the corner, and peered around it, using his night vision scanner, and sure enough, his tactical sensors could read the presence of people in doorways and other tactical sound positions to provide a corridor of hell for whoever tried to breach down here.

He removed one of his photon grenades, tapped the primer, and lobbed it down the corridor. The three second detonator activated just as the device was about to hit the floor - sending a massive concussive explosion into the first part of the corridor - killing several of the guards. They tried to return fire, but Sharpe then rolled his energy dampener down the corridor, deactivating their weapons. He then dove around the corner, rolled forward, coming up on one knee again, holding his Sig in both hands, he moved with precision, firing one shot per guy in his field of fire, chest shots all.

The clip clicked empty, so in one smooth motion, with his right hand he used the clip release that dropped the empty mag onto the floor, and his left hand to slide a new clip into the breach. A quick cock, and he had fifteen shots again. By this time, he needed to move, so he got up from one knee, still firing at his attackers - who had taken cover behind whatever they could, as Sharpe made it to the first door-way on the left. As he reached the doorway, his gun clicked empty again - and he repeated the reloading process, but this time with his back towards the enemy as he hid in the doorway.

The guards stopped firing, and a voice could be heard coming from down the corridor. "Give up Sharpe, you can't kill us all."

"You've never met a pissed off marine before, have you?" Sharpe said, as he finished reloading and primed the weapon again.

"You're outnumbered and outmatched." The voice replied. "Give up."

"You made a tactical error." Sharpe replied.

"And what might that be?" Came the reply.

"You left me alive." Sharpe said, rounded the corner and fired three quick shots, taking out two guards with headshots, the third hitting the wall near the voice. The firing recommenced, but much more ragged this time.

Sharpe primed his last grenade, and tossed it down the corridor to the last of the defenders. The device exploded, and in the chaos, Richard charged down the room, pulling his M1911 out from behind him, and with his Sig in his left and his Colt in his right, fired as he moved, taking out guards as he moved - until nothing moved in the corridor.

He clicked the empty mags out of the handguns, and reloaded as he reached the fifth door. Nothing could be heard in the corridor - just the smoke of the grenades and the quietness of death. He rounded the doorway, and saw a single guard holding Sarah in a headlock, with a knife to her throat.

"Drop 'em, Sharpe, or blondie here gets a new smile." The guard sneered.

Moving in from the smoke, Sharpe entered the room, his pistols in his hands at his sides. Sarah's face lit up when she saw her father. She didn't show fear, despite the threatening position she was in. She had even stopped struggling now that her father had appeared.

"This is your one warning. Let my daughter go unharmed, and I promise I won't kill you." Sharpe said, calmly - his voice tainted with threat and menace.

"I have all the cards here, Sharpe. You move, I kill her, I win no matter what." The guy said.

Richard cocked his head slightly to the left and looked at the guy. "Sweetie, you okay?" He asked Sarah.

"Been better Dad." She replied.

"You remember Trilista?" He asked.

"This isn't time for a family catch-up Sharpe!" The man snapped, very agitated.

"Sure I do." Sarah said.

"You remember what Aunt Sha`mer and Indi taught you?" Sharpe said, nodding to her.

Sarah smiled, and in a quick moment, stamped on the guard's foot and elbowed him in the stomach. The guard released his grip enough and Sarah followed it up with a back-kick to the guy's groin. The man groaned and dropped the knife, loosening his grip that Sarah slipped out of it. Richard moved and took his daughter into his right arm, extending his left, with his M1911 pointed at the guy.

"You wouldn't kill an unar-" BANG. A small red hole in the UFP guard's forehead, and the large gaping hole in the back of his head, where his brains had exploded out against the back-wall - told the story.

"I warned you about pissed off marines." Sharpe said, and holstered his Colt.

= End =

General Richard Sharpe