Rolling in the 'Deep [Exemplary]

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The bulkhead door creaked open loudly, its rusty hinges groaning against the applied force. Vincent doubted the sound could be heard over the roar of the engine, but he remained vigilant nonetheless. The door being open, he hopped quickly over the threshold, taking a few steps down the stairs as he slid the door shut behind him.

The passage was dark, though lit somewhat by a fluorescent bulb affixed to the ceiling; more like it lit the remainder of the hallway, which turned abruptly some 20 feet away. The dim overhead lighting of the ship illuminated the path somewhat, casting a long shadow from where he now stood. The gunslinger blinked a few times, adjusting to the lower light. The sounds of the turbines were now all but blotted out; how exactly, he did not know. The Prime took a few steps forward, placing his feet quietly upon the smooth floor and running his gloved hand along the wall as he passed. He listened intently for sounds of alarm, though none came. He wondered how long it would take for the crew to realize they were short a member.

The pale intruder followed the narrow hallway, turning corner after corner with no resistance. The sounds of the ocean were falling away, though the sounds of life were beginning to emerge. As he turned yet another corner the hallway terminated as Vincent caught sight of a large, reinforced door. As he raised his hand to turn the lock, he heard the unmistakable sound of screaming. He paused, staring at the rusty door for a few long minutes. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, he heaved the door open.

The door opened into a large rectangular atrium, bordered by two staircases located bilaterally from where he stood. He quietly shut the door behind him, keeping his gaze forward to observe the state of the room. Ahead of him stood an archway that lead to a larger room, through which Vincent caught the sight of a few men milling around. He immediately fell to a crouch, somersaulting to the left, out of sight of the door. He crept closer to the doorframe, keeping low to avoid being scene.

The Prime’s skulking was abruptly interrupted by the entrance a soldier, bearing a striking resemblance to the mercenary he had just dispatched. “Who the hell are you?” He barked, reaching for his radio.

Without a second thought, the ex-Turk whipped Cerberus from her sheath, took aim at the man’s belt and pulled the trigger. For a split second the Prime cursed his stupidity, remembering his lack of ammunition. He could scarcely form the thought before a ball of light shot from the barrel, detonating the communication device. The man stood frozen for a moment, staring down at the charred cloth where his radio had been. Vincent instantly dashed forward, throwing his leg hard at the man’s knees. The man half-cart wheeled, half-fell to the floor, letting out a small groan as he had bounced off of the metal flooring.

The pale Prime leveled his firearm at the soldier’s forehead, glaring wordlessly down at him. The man stared back, rage etched into his face. He placed a hit boot over the man’s mouth, pushing down hard. His captive winced, groaning once more in pain. Vincent watched as the man’s eyes broke contact with his, glancing lower. The man let out a few quick breaths as his face began to contort under the Prime’s boot.

Laughter.

Vincent stood puzzled for a moment, until he heard the sound of rapid footfalls behind him.