The great destroyer warship at the face of the Cruise. They warned the Captain to cease the ship's voyage. As the crew members did so...
People in black came rushing over the Oasis Cruise. The deck officers held on gunpoint, and every human that comes into view. Seizing their freedom, holding them captive.
Their demand only one; they wanted Neva Evara Noe.
(The Cruise at 05:36 PM)
The supervisors and deck officers begging for the passengers, for all of their life to be spared. Countless of ripping cries out the victims lips. But, the predators were not here to be sentimental and symphatize.
The best they know; is to kill, or to be killed.
Yet to find the person they need, families awaiting at home, for tonight's the new year. Mission calls first; they were all, but doing their job.
All else aside, they were the kinds to decide their own fate.
This day they had resolved: this new year shall be celebrated alongside, their comrades, skinny dipping in the warm blood of not their own; but in the ocean of their bleeding prey.
The deck officers, were not saint. Had they realised; she, who brought death upon them was on this very Cruise as a passenger, in a beat of the heart, would they offer her; as the young sacrificial lamb.
Shamefully, the assailants did not know how the woman they wanted looked like. They did not carry even a picture of the said her. Ridiculous was the great scheme: the information they had was not nearly valid.
"We told you!! There is no one named Neva here!" The Captain of the ship exclaims, knelt down on the floor, arms raised, a gesture to the surrendering before the ones who held guns on the heads.
BANG!!!
BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!
Thunders, frightening numbers of assault rifles fires in the air. The howling wind of the ocean dulls, the waves of the ocean drowns.
The passengers drops down dead on the ground, once knelt down, blood pooling out, around on the cruise.
The deck floods in blood, trickles, dribbles, drop by drop into the ocean...
The eyes of the captain enlarges in horror. There were four thousand passengers gathered on the main deck of the ship. They had just, mercilessly killed hundreds of them.
Two thousand of the passengers, crew members in the specific areas, held hostage on the rooms, every other deck, every other space.
Neva Evara Noe? Who was she? Why did they have to die for a mere mortal?
No, they had not heard of that name, they cursed her, cursed themselves for they did not know how she looked like.
"Reveal the truth! Or your people die, every. Five. Seconds." Hisses the man cruelly, trudging towards the captain. He stands before the kneeling man, a revolver in his hand, looking down at the man with his chin raised high in power.
He shoves the tip of the weapon under the captain's chin—getting him to raise his chin, the hard eyes meetting his own prideful, dull ones.
Huston; he was the Boss, and he was the only one who could recognise Neva.
He scanned the face of all the four thousand civilians, one-after-another. Here for half an hour, and thirty more minutes. Eighty three minutes, gone, scrutinizing faces.
Still, it had been deemed inneficient.
"I beg you, we don't have her. Have you taken a look at everyone? Please, spare us, we don't have her," Droplets of tears streams down his brave eyes. They were madman, on a killing spree, just to gorge their ego.
"Boss, she might be hiding, you should scrutinize everyone, and not spare one." The man named John, who had the upperhand second to Huston states.
"Five seconds past, gun down, further hundred of them." Huston declares, and he turns around to leave, ignoring the terror blaring screams brimming the cruise.
As Huston's orders are received, the horrible rumbling noises of the gun resounds around the ocean, they massacre the blameless as if they were harmful bugs.
Partway of the cries numbs, hundred of them murdered ruthlessly.
The deceased drops to the ground, eyes wide open—drowning in their own blood.
The cries and horror filled screams of the living does not cease.
Bang!!!
He fires in the air.
"Shut Your Mouth!!" John roars out at the terrified people.
Most of the cries numbs down, and therefore, it makes the little sobs more discernible. He glances behind him, and at a distance, surrounded by scared adults and eerie corpse; cupping his ears, he grieves.
John squints his eyes at the source he finds abominable.
The four year old's mother, embraces him tightly, attempting to soothe his cries.
"Please, please stop baby, don't cry, don't cry." Whispers the mother to her child.
But the innocent eyes had just enfolded hell, he hears nothing, and ceases not the sobs... his breathing raggdd.
The deathly boots clicks the floor, approaching the mother and son. Everyone holds the breaths, awaiting disaster, shivering and trembling.
She hugs the child closer to her chest, curled up on the cold surface of the deck.
"Don't please! Don't, he's just a child." The captain pleads breathlessly.
John turns his head to glance at him, and with a smirk.
Bang!!!
He spikes her head with the pistol, penetrating a bullet into the her skull.
Her hold on her son loosens, she lies head down on the floor. The little boy's eyes enlarges in terror.
"Mommy..." He murmers, his trembling hands gently caresses her hair.
"Your mother is dead because of you."
John, smugly smiles.
The child cries so heart-renchingly loud.
John covers his ears, his nose flares in anger. He points the gun to shoot at the child. The beholder of the tragedy, closing the eyes in sympathy.
Were there even a space left on their heart for sympathy? For fear engulfed all of the senses...
John wears a sinister smile, greed in his eyes, the index finger, a millisecond away to pull the trigger at the motherless child.
Bang!!!
He falls on the ground; limp. Blood oozing out his head. Gasps surrounds the ship.
The savages in black stands alert, frantically looking around. Their leader, John has just been killed.
Rhett, on the fourth deck of the floor, a machine gun in his hands, jagged at the savages, focuses his vision.
Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang!!!!!
He thunders down fires of bullets, beyond sparing a breath, forebidding sparing them a chance to fight back or locate him at all; brutally killing the evil with weapons present.
Overwhelming the ocean, Riving screams of panics pierces the air.
They cover their head, attempting to feel even vaguely secure—crouching down on the floor.
Rumbling of running footsteps approaching makes Rhett to cease his game with the barbarous downfloor.
Having killed almost every of them on the deck, in mere seconds, but missed couple of rats shielding behind the walls.
Five hundred of intruders and more, he murdered hundreds of them. The remaining asssailants, a backup on the ship for reinforce, rest, spread about on the cruise, holding the civilians captive in significant areas.
The war has just began.
Rhett slides himself away, obscured behind the wall beside the glassed window, the noises of loud steps nearing close.
They were swarming in through the door of the room he was the closest to.
He positions the weapon, the best angle to get their soul. And he rumbles out bullets... fiercely, slaughtering them all down.
Swarm of rogues flocks in through the hallway. The troop rushing up the fourth floor to intersect with the guys, as they attempt to hunt down; this terror of a man.
He nears the entrance of the room, walking over the death corpses sprawled on the ground. Driving grim eyes, he blends the firing bullets with the enemies, groans and blood.
Unless you are a step ahead of your foe; you die. Clever ones, hides themselves in the horizontal rooms.
The people carelessly firing at Rhett, standing tall on the hallway, with no realization of sheltering from his insaneness. For they refuse to conclude, he could alone, weigh heavy on them all...
The formidable man, but was a lone man, he shouldn't be impossible for them to hunt down.
They had taken his bullets. Cold, blood gushing out their mouth. They bath in their own blood, not of their preys, as Agent Czar walks away to shadow his prey.
Their resolve, have failed them. They blundered in creating their own fate and destiny, the pride, drew their own blood.