Writing Challenge: Action Movie with 1950s Villains

Posted on Mon Jul 16th, 2018 @ 9:36pm by Chief Warrant Officer Daytona Ral & Baroness 2nd Class Schwein von Alcott

Mission: Holographic Horrors
Location: Deck 8
Timeline: Current

Daytona made his way through the ship's corridors as he searched for Akira. If she was solid and still walking, she might still be on Deck 8, where the Senior Officer's Quarters were located. They'd been in her quarters when the storm had struck. When the call came summoning the senior officers to the bridge, Akira was out of bed in a flash and off to the bridge. If she chose to walk, she might still be on this deck. If she tried to materialize on the bridge, she obviously didn't succeed, because Mal said he'd tried to reach her. His search might be fruitless if he couldn't get the computer to locate her. Just as he was about to tap his commbadge, the environment around him changed. Suddenly he was on a sidewalk in what looked like Chicago, somewhere between the 1920s and the 1950s. The architecture was odd, making it difficult to determine exactly when the scene was set.

Daytona looked down at himself and discovered he was wearing a suit and a fedora hat. He felt the weight of a 20th century Earth firearm under his left shoulder. It was a Browning 9mm, with a 13-round magazine and one bullet in the chamber. There were three spare magazines under his right shoulder.

"What in the name of the Prime Number is going on here?" he asked no one in particular. Around him were the sights and smells of another time and place. Then he noticed something else. Almost everyone had a gun of some kind. They were everywhere. Handguns, shotguns, tommy guns. There were some gunsels on the rooftops with rifles. Daytona decided he'd better get off of the street and went into a nearby bar and restaurant. There were more armed people inside. He walked up to the bar and, figuring it couldn't hurt, ordered a beer.

Behind the bar, a woman wearing a suit and a derby hat was all but fuming. Turning around and setting a violin case on the counter, the Baroness reached under the bar, pulled out a glass stein, and worked one of the beer taps, doing her best to give the Chief Warrant Officer a beer with no head. Still fuming over the situation, she set it down in front of him. "Your bier, Herr Ral. Can you explain how I am here with a violin case full of Nazi guns rather than on ze Hera?"

"Baroness," Daytona said. "I have no idea. Commander Xustos mentioned something about the holoemitters malfunctioning. What if it was more than just the emitters? Is it possible that the holodeck programming software is malfunctioning as well? What if the holo software is generating random programs using the shipwide holoemitters? If that's the case, I'm going to assume that we're still on the Hera, but not in the holodeck, which presents a problem. Let me try something."

Daytona took a deep breath and crossed his fingers.

"Computer, end program," he said. Nothing happened. "Computer, Arch." Again, nothing happened. "Damn, that's what I was afraid of. The holo scenario is doesn't have an obvious off switch. Let's try one more thing."

Daytona searched himself. He found his commbadge fixed into a pocket watch he was wearing in his vest. He tapped it.

"Ral to Bridge," he said. Nothing. "Ral to Engineering? Ral to Security?"

Daytona sighed.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said. "The scenario has cut off communication with both our comrades and the computer itself, and because we're not on the holodeck, there's no Arch, since the Arch is the arch over the entrance to the holodeck."

Daytona looked around at the barroom.

"This looks like the Iotian Outfit's idea of gangster movie from Earth," he said. "Which is the only reason these aren't energy weapons...at least, I think they aren't energy weapons..."

Daytona carefully drew his Browning Hi-Power and ejected the magazine.

"Yep," he said. "Gunpowder propelled projectiles, 9mm in my case. I've got 13 in the box and one in the pipe, plus three more 13-round mags. What do you have?"

Schwein popped open the violin case to reveal a pair of P08 Lugers and a pair of drum magazines. Both barrel mags were fully loaded with 9mm ammo. "It looks like I have sixty four rounds and full auto." Checking the pistols, she found one more in the chamber of each. "Make that sixty six."

Daytona sighed.

"The computer couldn't have given you something a little less conspicuous?" he said. As he said this, a 5' 3" tall woman walked up to the bar carrying a Browning Automatic Rifle with a 20-round box magazine and several more of the magazines in a bandolier across her chest. On her hip, she carried an M1917 Colt .45 revolver. She leaned the BAR against the bar and took a seat.

"Whiskey," she said. "Neat."

Daytona shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. "Those ridiculous things don't look any more or less conspicuous than anything else around here."

Two men entered the bar. One was carrying a Thompson .45 ACP submachine gun (AKA Tommy Gun) with a 50-round drum magazine. The other had an 1897 Winchester pump action 12-gauge shotgun (also known as a 'trench gun'). There were bulges under both of their jackets, indicating that each one was carrying a pistol of some sort. This wasn't what caught Daytona's attention. What caught his attention was that he overheard one of them mention his name. Whoever these men were, they were looking for him.

"My dear Baroness," he said. "I think we can expect some trouble."

Lifting up her eyepatch, the baroness surveyed the scene and looked around for cover. Nodding, it seemed she found it. "When the shooting begins, get behind the bar. There is a three centimeter steel plate running across the front and top of it." She then slipped her violin case off the counter down under it, still open so she could have quick access to the pistols within. Next to where she placed it she noticed a box with some rather odd markings so she lifted the top of the wooden case... and found it full of stick grenades. "I seem to have also found a case of potato mashers... Bartender perks?"

"Daytona Ral!" one of the men shouted before Daytona could reply. "You stuck your nose in Boss Ixmyx's business one too many times!"

Daytona didn't waste anytime. He vaulted over the bar. As he passed over the bar, he reached out and grabbed the little woman's BAR. She had died while drawing her M1917 without actually getting off a shot.

The two gunsels let loose at Daytona and shot up the bar, tearing up the wood of the bar and exposing the steel plates. Daytona popped back over the bar and fired the BAR at the two men. He wasn't used to firing a machine gun, so he hit just about everyone around the two men before finally hitting the shotgun toting gangster in the shoulder. He ducked behind the bar and set down the BAR. It was useless now, since all of its spare magazines were strapped to the chest of its dead owner on the other side of the bar. He drew his pistol and looked at the Baroness.

"I guess it's your turn," Daytona said.

The Baroness had already clipped in both magazines and was ducked below the bar, ready to pop up like a jack in the box as soon as there was a break in the fire. Shaking her head at Daytona, she waited just a moment longer. Then the sounds of reloading began and she popped up and began firing rhythmically, her eyepatch still up. Leaping up onto the bar, she kicked a glass of ale into the faces of several people entering as she shot several others in a corner before shooting them as well. Walking down the bar a bit, still in plain view of those left alive, she easily shot several more patrons reaching for their guns. Within a few more seconds, the only sound left was that of her clinking brass and bodies hitting the floor. "Thirty three targets neutralized," reported the Baroness. She then shot a cop rushing into the bar in the forehead. "Thirty four. Are you injured?"

"Nope," Daytona said, brushing himself off and standing up. "Thanks. It's been a while since I fired a fully automatic projectile weapon. So, if this is a holoscenario, then we're either still in the corridor or we entered someone's quarters. If we're still in the corridor, the scenery will move with us and put us on the street. If we're in someone's quarters, then the door should be where the door is in the scenario, so we can get out of here that way. Unless you think we should hold out in here until this passes?"

"Perhaps we should confer with Crewman Sarman?" The Baroness motioned over to the one living thing left in the bar - a Bolian in a suit and tie with an M1 carbine strapped to his back and half of a gangster's brains splattered across him. Bolians aren't normally known for being silent, but this one was so stunned he looked like he had wet himself and wouldn't be talking for a week.

Hopping down off the bar and heading towards the silent Crewman, the Baroness kept an eye on both the door and the scared Bolian to make sure he didn't freak out any further. "It's ok, Sarman. We will get through this together, ja? Where were you when the simulation began?"

As the Bolian started to look down at the holographic gore all over him, Schwein set down one of her pistols and lifted his chin enough so he could only see her face and looked him in the eyes. "Keep it together Crewman. Is the door to this bar, the equivalent to the door to your quarters? Or are we in a hallway?"

He tried to look over at the door but Schwein's intense stare, with one normal eye and one red cybernetic eye brought him back to her. "The... The... It's the observation lounge outside my quarters... No one else was supposed to be here... I was just eating some rations..."

Tapping the side of her head with the pistol she still had, Schwein spoke a bit softer. "Don't worry. No one got hurt. Cybernetic eye, ja? I can see that you and Chief Ral are real while everyone else was holographic. Once this is over, go see therapy, ja?"

Sarman nodded slightly, still scared out of his whits. "Yeah... Yeah..."

Suddenly there was a loud noise outside, as if several cars had just come screeching to a halt in front of the bar. Daytona looked out the window. Sure enough, several cars had come screeching to a halt outside and men armed with Thompson guns with drum magazines were getting out of them.

"Oh good grief," Daytona said. "It seems that this Boss Ixmyx is nothing if not persistent. We need to find a way out of this part of the simulation. If the bar has a back door, even if it's a wall in real life, the simulation should move around us, and under us for that matter, allowing us to exit."

As he spoke, Daytona removed the bandolier of four, 20-round magazines for the BAR from the woman who'd brought the weapon, strapped it on, and retrieved the unwieldy BAR from behind the bar.

"I suggest we try cutting through the kitchen...NOW," he said. "If you don't want to get filled full of holographic lead, that is. And we all have to go together. If we don't, either the simulation won't move and I'm going to hit a real wall and be stuck here with you or the simulation WILL move, the front of the bar will move towards me, and you'll be on the other side of it with them."

As if to emphasize his point, from outside came the sound of around a dozen bolts being worked, prepping around a dozen Tommy guns for firing.

"Times up!" Daytona said. "Let's go!"

As Crewman Sarman showed no signs of moving, Schwein decided she would move him and pushed him towards the back door of the bar. Thankfully he got the point after that and he didn't need any more prompting. Picking up her other pistol, she headed towards the door as well, bringing up the rear and covering their escape.

Just as they made it through to the back room, the gangsters outside opened fire. Bullets shredded the bar and tore through everything inside, turning everything into swiss cheese. The Bolian Crewman ducked for cover and started crying, unable to take any more. Schwein also took cover, but was actually smiling and enjoying herself, both pistols at the ready. "Veritable blitzkrieg outside, no obvious way out, and we have a barber to protect. Not good odds, ja? Are we in shiza without the paddle yet, Chief?"

"Well," Daytona said, holding up his hand which now had his own greenish blood on it. "If we weren't sure before, now we know. The safeties are off. I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm. I've been shot with real bullets before. This one was pretty close to the real thing."

Daytona looked around at their surroundings as he tried to figure a way out.

"Most places like this would have had a back door," he said. "Someplace to take out the trash at least, so they wouldn't have to carry it through the front. I think the computer is adapting the scenario to the limited real world space it has to work with. So, if we can't go out the back, we're going to have to go out the front. Listen. They've stopped firing. Now their going to reload and then move in to see if we're dead or not. If we can set up a field of fire before they get in there...maybe you and Sarman behind the bar, you one of those machine pistols of yours at a time while Sarman reloads the other. They'll focus on you. The bar is good cover, steel reinforced. I'll hide behind a table off to the side and while they're concentrating on you, I'll hit them with this weapon. If we can kill them and get one of their cars, we can put some distance between us and them. But we've got to do it now."

"There are also grenades." Schwein reminded him as she made her move, popping off several rounds and taking down a few of them as she left the back room and went back to the cover of the bar. As they opened fire again, she pulled the string on the first grenade and sent it sailing right through the open window of one of their cars. A couple seconds later there was an explosion and complete chaos settled in. Only two seconds after that another explosion followed as they apparently had some explosives as well. After two more grenades, Schwein came out from behind the bar and strolled out into the street, glancing around for any more hostiles.

There were plenty.

Five of the gangsters had survived the carnage and were making their way to their feet. Her remaining ammo made quick work of four of them and for the last one, she walked up to him, let him fumble with his jammed gun, then piss himself as this apparent demon girl calmly reached up and ripped his throat out with one hand, spraying blood all over her as his gurgling last breath left him.

This was one of the reasons she kept her nails done with plasteel. You never knew when someone might plot to assassinate a member of the Artan family and you needed your hands for weapons.

She then walked back into the bar. "Area clear of hostiles!"

Daytona shook his head. He walked to the front door of the bar, kicked it open, and opened fire into the street, killing the remaining gunsels on the right, ducking behind a mailbox and reloading, then popping up and taking out the ones on the left. Wisely, no one had been standing in the center. Daytona reloaded again. The street was empty, but armed men and women were coming out of shops and restaurants up and down the street. They were looking at a billboard sign that Daytona hadn't noticed before. There was a picture of him in his suit, leering as what was apparently supposed to be a previously virginal adult daughter as she point to him and said 'That's the man who ruined me daddy! Make him pay!'. The sign said in big letters 'Daytona Ral, Cad, Rake, Defiler' and '$100,000 for proof of kill'.

"Oh good grief," Daytona said. "If I had defiled that woman, she wouldn't be asking her father to kill me, she'd be asking for more! And I'm certainly worth more than 100,000 of...whatever that denomination is!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Daytona saw movement, he turned and found a woman who had just pulled a sawed-off double barrel shotgun from...he really didn't want to know where, and was pointing it at him. Before she could shoot, Daytona had the BAR leveled at her and he pulled the trigger, a short burst...well...as short a burst as you could do with a BAR, killing her dead. Two more came at him and Daytona dropped them as well. Then a fourth. Then the BAR went 'click'. Empty. That was when Daytona realized he was out of spare magazines. It really had been a long time since he'd used a projectile weapon for serious work. Daytona dove behind a car and scooped up one of the gunsels' recently reloaded and unfired Tommy guns. It had been reloaded with another 50-round drum. Daytona felt around the body and found a few 30-round stick magazines and stuck them through his belt. Bullets slammed into the car he was hiding behind. He popped up and returned fire, then ducked again.

"If you're coming," he shouted. "We need to go now, before they trash these cars...or...you know...kill me!"

Schwein walked back out of the bar, a fresh pair of P08s tucked into her trousers and the rest of the box of grenades tucked under one arm. In one hand she had a pair of them and she pulled the strings with her teeth before lobbing both of them about forty meters down the street, one landing in the back of a truck and the other landing on the other side of it that several more gangsters were trying to hide behind. "Sorry about that. I wanted a few toys. The barber needed to get moving too." Behind her, Crewman Sarman looked like he had wet himself, but he was moving.

Pulling out another grenade and ripping the string out with her teeth again, she tossed that one the other way down the street, this time scattering several mobsters into chunky salsa before they could get away from it. She then tossed the rest of the box into one of the cars that looked like it would still run and hopped behind the driver's seat. "Get on the floorboard, Sarman! And try not to get shot!" She then looked for the ignition switch, hoping she could get this vehicle started.

Daytona wrinkled his nose at the aroma Sarman was giving off, but he was too busy walking around and grabbing spare magazines from the dead gunsels all around the cars. He had ten of the 30-round sticks stuck through his belt around his waist, and managed to score three more of the 50-round drums. He check, but no one else nearby was carrying a Browning pistol like his so he couldn't grab any extras for that. He tossed the drums in the back of the 1950 Chrysler DeSoto DeLuxe and climbed in the after them. The back window was a little shot up, and it was only going to get in the way anyway, so Daytona took a moment and finished breaking the glass, clearing room for him to fire out the back if they were pursed...and for the smell of Sarman's accident to flow freely out.

It took the pirate a moment longer to get the antique car started and not a moment too soon before a trio of housewives started unloading on them with rifles from shop windows. Thankfully they weren't very good shots but they still hit the car doors a couple times as Schwein floored the accelerator. The power wasn't exactly what she expected, but it got them down the street and away from the current scene towards a less bullet-infested area. As the Baroness drove faster down the street something strange started happening. The feeling of motion vanished and the scene outside started showing signs of degradation as if the scenario was unable to keep up with them and starting to break apart. "Do you see what I see, Chief?"

"That the world is falling apart?" Daytona replied. "Yes. If this were the holodeck, the emitters would be able to handle the car's speed and keep pace. The emitters on the rest of the ship are designed to create functional holographic people, Emergency Medical Holograms, etc, which is why they can handle Maica and...Akira...Prime Number please let her be safe...anyway, I don't think the emitters in the corridor are numerous enough to handle moving terrain. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll overload."

"In that case..." The Baroness doubled down, shifted gears and floored the gas pedal, hoping to overload the already straining emitters and watching the scenery break down around them.

Daytona was thrown back against the rear seat when the Baroness hit the accelerator. He recovered just in time to see two cars pull into the street from side streets and take up pursuit. The cars were flickering in and out of existence, but when they were in existence, Daytona could see that there was a gunsel armed with a Tommy gun leaning out of the front passenger window. The gunsel opened fire. Some of the bullets hit the car, others evaporated before they arrived. Daytona tried aiming his own Tommy gun out the back window to return fire, but encountered some difficulty when the weapon, along with his period suit, kept flickering in and out of existence. He really got nervous when the car began to flicker. Luckily it remained solid enough that no one fell through the bottom...for now.

"This might be working a little too well, my dear Baroness!" Daytona said. He managed to get a few shots off here and there, but between the moving vehicles and the fluctuating holographic weapon, clothes, cars, and other scenery, he didn't really hit much.

Suddenly a truck hauling freight pulled out in front of them and while Schwein tried to swerve to avoid it, things didn't go so well. What was left of the car swerved and glitched halfway into a building. The occupants were unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the street as the scenario began to stabilize around them. About half of their guns and ammo were dumped with them and not in any meaningful order.

As schwein stood up, she looked over one of her P08 pistols. Half of it was in her hand and not the half that could fire. The other one was solid, but the barrel magazine was missing. Tossing both aside, she looked for the box of grenades only to discover half of them... the half with the handles...

Then there was some pretty villainous gangster laughter coming from where the truck had pulled out of followed by the sound of an old gatling gun and several Tommy guns being loaded.

Daytona was similarly unarmed and looked like he'd had enough.

"Alright," he called out to the gangsters as he stepped between the gunsels and the braroness and the barber with his hands raised. "Enough. This is ridiculous. I haven't...deflowered anyone in months. I never saw that girl before in my life, so whatever she's telling you is a lie, I'm sorry to say."

"Youse callin' my baby girl a liar?" boomed a voice as a large man came out from behind the truck. "Because if dats da case, you are gonna be sorry...real sorry."

Daytona took in the site of the large man in the fancy suit with a pearl-handled, nickle-plated, Colt M1911 .45ACP in his right hand, flanked by two Tommy gun wielding gunels. One of the gunsels was a textbook example of a 'no-necked rhino' and the other had an unusually large forehead.

"Boss Ixmyx, I presume?" Daytona said. "And your friends there? No, let me guess...Nicky the Neck and Frankie the Forehead?"

The two gunsels growled and made as if to fire on Daytona but their weapons...not to mention their bodies were fading in and out. So was Boss Ixmyx, who stopped his boys from shooting.

"No, boys," he said. "This bastard is all mine."

Ixmxy raised his Colt pistol, which was once again solid and aimed at Daytona. He slowly squeezed the trigger, savoring the moment and making sure he wouldn't miss. The hammer dropped and there was a pop, almost like a large caliber gunshot, followed by several more pops and a flash of light as the holoemitters on the deck all catastrophically failed. Daytona closed his eyes to protect them and when he opened them, he was back in his uniform, so was the Bolian barber, and the Baroness was in the civvies she'd been wearing before the whole mess started. All traces of 'gangland' were gone.

"Well," Daytona said. "That was exciting. Baroness, if you wouldn't mind seeing to Sarman, I need to go find Akira. With the holoemitters on the fritz, she could be in real trouble."

Without waiting for an answer, Daytona took off down the corridor, tapping his commbadge and calling around to see if anyone had seen Akira.