A massive room revealed itself from behind the doors. Powerful lights lit the hanger, which had now become a battlefield. Tens of pirates took cover behind ships and crates, blasting each other at every opportunity. Kinson was taken aback at the sight, but Captain Ashton shared no such hesitation. He charged straight towards the nearest foe: a massive man with a shotgun. The man's eyes widened, and he quickly leveled the barrel of his gun at the incoming opponent. He was a fraction of a second too late though, and the psiblade cleaved through his arms and chest, effortlessly severing the man in half.
Kinson stared in horror as the two bloody halves separated and collapsed to the floor. The pirate's shriek faded into the background, only one of several other death cries occurring at the moment. He looked down at his shaking hands, which still clutched his gun with white fingers. A sudden sound behind him brought him to his senses, and he dove aside without a second thought.
Scarcely had he moved, a red beam of light swept into the room, splitting the air apart where he had been standing. The pain in his leg, which ached anew from the landing, paled in comparison to the agony he would have received from Boros's shot.
"Little squirt. It seemed your leg wasn't enough! Take some of this!" the angry pirate captain yelled.
Kinson leapt to his feet and backpedaled frantically as another red blast struck the ground where he had fallen. The metal hissed with steam and turned a bright red. He raised his gun, trying to aim with trembling hands.
Kinson squeezed the trigger several times, but no bullet appeared. Before he could ponder on the malfunction, Boros sneered and raised his hand. Kinson dove aside and rolled behind some crates as another red beam pierced the hangar.
His gun seemed just fine, without any outward damage. He scanned it for a moment, before the sudden urge to facepalm nearly compelled his hand into motion. He slid his finger across the grip and a small lever clicked into place. Meanwhile, Ashton rampaged like a madman, shouting and killing with unending ferocity. Almost a dozen dismembered corpses littered the room behind him, with another joining them every few seconds. Most of the Sons of Scarlet were pinned down against the wall, somewhat close to Kinson's position. They had managed to snatch a quick reprieve as their captain drew the majority of enemy fire. Bullets flashed across the room, and the echo of explosions was near deafening. Many of the projectiles appeared like comets, streaking around while enveloped in various types of energy. If he wasn't caught in the middle of the firefight, it might have been quite beautiful. Kinson turned as someone called out to him, bellowing over the noise.
"Get over here"
He turned and saw one of the Sons of Scarlet waving at him. After peeking over the edge of the heavy cargo crate he had taken shelter behind, Kinson was startled to discover his pursuers were gone. The passage was empty, save the broken doors which swung softly, rocked by the frequent blasts of the battle.
"No time like the present," he muttered, then took off in a limp.
The distance to the others was only about 20 feet, and was out of the crossfire. The Sons of Scarlet were pinned down by the main outward hangar door. A small cargo ship was parked right behind their position. Somehow, the team had managed to find enough crates to construct a barricade around the lowered entrance ramp.
The instant Kinson left his safety, he aggroed a few shots. Fortunately, the assailants, who hid safely behind their own fortifications, were rather far away, so all the bullets missed. His heart pounded as sparks skittered off the floor around him, prompting him to limp along even quicker.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a particularly large weapon aimed at him. He glanced to the side, and gasped. Several enemy pirates had somehow rigged up a large turret glowing with energy. The energy, which manifested as visible blue lightning, traveled along the needle shaped barrel, before gathering at the tip. Once it had coalesced into a crackling ball, the psionic weapon fired and launched the energy at him.
Kinson tried to jump and dodge, but his leg ended up collapsing under the sudden stress. He screamed as he fell forward and ended up rolling on the ground. A moment later, the energy burst struck the ground, melting the steel flooring just a few feet away.
The next thing Kinson knew, several hands were dragging him on the ground. His vision spun, and his ears were deafened by a piercing ring. He vaguely felt blood pooling from his side, leaving long streaks on the ground behind him.
A gruff voice made its way through the fog in his mind. "You almost made it. Bah, perhaps you'll pull through yet,"
He groaned in pain, unable to respond. The agony was countless times greater than the fire in his leg, and he struggled to understand the voice, which was talking again.
"At least do a proper dodge next time. That half-hearted roll ended up almost killing you. Haven't you been in a fire fight before?"
"N-Not really," Kinson replied. It felt like swords were slicing apart his inside, making every breath hurt.
"Yup, definitely some internal damage. Good luck in the next life!" the man said.
Finally, he was set on the ground. He managed to open his eyes and look around.. They were behind the small cargo ship the Sons of Crimson had secured. He gingerly touched his side, and brought it towards his face. The warm blood shone in the light, reflecting countless colors as psionic abilities and weapons shone around them.
he craned his neck to look up, and saw the bearded man he talked with before they arrived at the base. "I never caught your name," he said with much effort. "Thanks for saving me."
"Don't thank me yet. If we can't get those doors open, we're as good as dead," the man responded, gesturing with his pistol towards the bay doors. "The name's Drake, by the way," he muttered as he peeked over the crate and squeezed a few rounds off.
At that moment, another explosion rocked the massive room. It seemed the psionic turret had fired again.
"There's the captain. I've never seen him lose his cool like this," the man said, scratching his beard as he reloaded. "It's almost enough to make me scared of him."
"He's still alive?" Kinson asked, although he already knew the answer. If the man had died, he would probably be released from the Deathdream. Probably.
Kinson tried to sit up, but collapsed in pain. After he had recovered, he asked,
"What's he doing?"
The man spat on the ground. "Tearing into their formation, wait, now he's targeted the turret. His shields are still active, which makes him virtually unkillable."
"Shields? I thought his ability was a sword?" Kinson asked in confusion.
"Not really. He's actually an Aura Manipulator, and can manifest his power in a few different ways. As long as he has strength, that is. He's about to reach his limit, though," the man said despondently.
"I want to see," Kinson found his courage, and tried to sit up again.
"Take it easy there, I barely have time to chat with you, much less babysit your useless self." he grunted in reply.
Kinson ignored him and struggled to sit up. He gasped in pain, but persevered and managed to peak his head over the crate. He gasped in surprise, a gesture which turned into a bloody cough.