Drake could hear movement in the hallway. The bulk of his armor made turning around to see what was behind him, a frustrating effort. The enclosed space continued to rub against the well worn suit, but Drake was taught to always face his enemies. He found it curious though that after running and hiding, anyone would come back to confront him. Thinking to himself, he considered the situation, ‘was it a mistake, or did someone think they could best a veteran Marine?’
Two people stood in front of James, and just as before, neither were armored well. One was a pale looking stick man, and the other was a bulky dark man. The contrast amused him.
Sparks flew from the shattered remains of the deck. Both men fixed their gaze on James’ helmet. They seemed to be considering their options. Lunging outwards, Sergeant Drake grabbed at the thin white man, only to watch as he moved out of his grasp before he could close his fist.
“Fast little man, you’ll die like the rest!”
Worf had already moved in and tried to shoot a maximum power phaser blast at point blank range, right at the neckline of the armored suit. Hoping for any sign of weakness, Worf was surprised both by the limited effect, and by how quickly James had been able to get a grip on him.
With his fingers wrapped around the ridges of Worf’s skull, Drake began to squeeze.
Letting out a strong howl, James Drake started to smirk inside his protective armor. Data moved in quick and tried to pry the metal hand off his friend. Finger by finger, James could feel his grip weakening.
Shifting slightly, he was able to re-draw his bolter, and with the pale, strong man distracted, he placed the end of the gun just under his chin, where Worf had attempted to open Drake’s armor. Pulling the trigger, the android’s head separated from his shoulders, and his neck was obliterated in such a way that the shoulders and body fell to the ground, cleanly severed from the head.
Worf let out another battle cry but this time, it was for his fallen comrade, and not for the pain he was still experiencing. Now free from Drake’s grasp, Worf grabbed both phaser rifles and leaping through a hole in the nearby wall, he tried to go around behind.
The tracking computer on James’ armor highlighted his target as it moved off slightly. Shuffling again, Drake tried to turn, but as he started, the wall that the darker man had escaped through collapsed on his shoulder, pinning him in place. He could move slightly, but it was at great effort. His right arm was mostly immobilized.
James Drake could hear the footsteps of the man behind him, and shortly after kicking some scrap metal, Worf was shooting both rifles, quickly draining their power as he hoped to not only stop this menace but avenge all of his fallen friends.
Drake’s armor absorbed the blasts, some heat was transferred through the armor, but was nothing compared to the heat he had felt on desert worlds. James taunted his foe, “you’ll have to do better than that…”
So enraged, Worf’s common sense left him. Leaping onto the back of the armor, he slammed the butt of the rifle into the armor, over and over, leaving barely a scratch, the rage clouded his vision and opened an opportunity for Drake to end their confrontation.