Chapter 3 - The Boarding Party
The heavy suite door swung inward with a violent, metallic crash that shook the walls.
Three massive men dressed in unmarked, heavily armored tactical gear poured into the small room.
They didn't look like cruise ship security guards responding to a noise complaint.
They moved with the cold, calculated precision of seasoned paramilitary mercenaries.
Each of them carried a suppressed submachine gun, their faces hidden behind dark ballistic masks.
I didn't hesitate, immediately dropping the classified dossier and diving behind the heavy oak king-sized bed.
The first suppressed shots ripped through the air, completely shredding the mattress just inches from my head.
Feathers and expensive fabric exploded around me like a strange, chaotic snowstorm.
They were fanning out, trying to trap me in the corner of the room.
I grabbed the heavy glass champagne bottle from the overturned ice bucket beside the nightstand.
Waiting for a momentary lull in the gunfire, I hurled the bottle blindly over the bed.
It shattered brilliantly against the lead mercenary's helmet, blinding him with alcohol and shards of thick glass.
Before his partners could adjust their aim, I vaulted over the ruined bed.
I slammed the aluminum bat directly into the kneecap of the second man, feeling the joint buckle under the force.
He screamed, dropping his weapon as he collapsed onto the blood-stained rug.
The third man lunged at me with a combat knife drawn, abandoning his rifle in the tight quarters.
I sidestepped his clumsy thrust, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the blade dropped.
I used his own momentum to throw him face-first into the heavy reinforced glass of the balcony door.
The glass cracked, and he slid to the floor, completely out of the fight.
I snatched one of the dropped submachine guns from the floor, checking the magazine purely by muscle memory.
The man who had been hit by the bottle was wiping his eyes, trying to raise his weapon again.
I didn't shoot him, knowing the noise of an unsuppressed struggle would only draw more enemies.
Instead, I delivered a swift, brutal kick to his chest, sending him crashing into the hallway.
I stepped over his groaning body, officially leaving the ruined honeymoon suite behind.
The luxury cruise ship hallway, usually filled with laughing tourists, was eerily empty and unnervingly silent.
I cautiously moved toward the grand atrium, keeping my stolen weapon raised and ready.
I peered over the elegant glass balcony overlooking the main promenade deck.
Dozens of armed mercenaries were systematically rounding up terrified passengers into the ship's massive central casino.
They were wiring heavy explosives to the main support pillars of the beautiful room.
May you like
This wasn't just a targeted hit on a retired Marine anymore.
This was a full-scale hostage situation, and thousands of innocent lives were suddenly depending on me.
