The Vengeance was in a barely-controlled suicide plunge, her broken metal corpse screaming through the atmosphere. Khan managed to haul himself up onto the controls, snarling out a new destination - Starfleet Headquarters - and pushing the dying ship to her absolute limit in his rage.
They'd taken everything from him, and he would repay them a hundredfold.
He felt the first impact, hull squealing as the dreadnought cleanly scoured Alcatraz off the map. The viewscreen flickered, alarms blaring, and Khan watched with vicious satisfaction as the San Francisco skyline filled the viewport.
The augment didn't brace himself, didn't even care to try - survival wasn't the goal. He'll go down with his ship, with his crew, and damn the rest of them. So he wasn't surprised when he was thrown forward with the second impact, the behemoth of a warship carving out a path of destruction through the city. His body cracked against the crumbling control panels, bridge warping and tearing in the chaos, until finally, finally, there was a wash of pain and everything went white.
When reality snaps back into focus, the Vengeance is gone. So is San Francisco, and so is Earth. He is in, of all things, a... bar. A Starfleet bar, judging from the uniforms. This is undoubtedly a Federation vessel, and Khan can feel the fury boiling beneath his skin.
On of the patrons notices him, and his physical state - favoring his right side, breath rapid and shallow, streaked in his own blood - and approaches. But the adrenaline from his fight is still coursing through him, and the second the crew member draws near, Khan lashes out. A sweep to the knees gets him on his back, and the augment is instantly upon his prey, hauling him with a crushing grip to his throat. "Where am I?"
The question is snarled, but directed to the room at large. And if one of them dares to approach... well. Khan's killed hundreds, perhaps thousands today. One more is nothing.
Khan Noonien Singh | Star Trek AOS | Option One
They'd taken everything from him, and he would repay them a hundredfold.
He felt the first impact, hull squealing as the dreadnought cleanly scoured Alcatraz off the map. The viewscreen flickered, alarms blaring, and Khan watched with vicious satisfaction as the San Francisco skyline filled the viewport.
The augment didn't brace himself, didn't even care to try - survival wasn't the goal. He'll go down with his ship, with his crew, and damn the rest of them. So he wasn't surprised when he was thrown forward with the second impact, the behemoth of a warship carving out a path of destruction through the city. His body cracked against the crumbling control panels, bridge warping and tearing in the chaos, until finally, finally, there was a wash of pain and everything went white.
When reality snaps back into focus, the Vengeance is gone. So is San Francisco, and so is Earth. He is in, of all things, a... bar. A Starfleet bar, judging from the uniforms. This is undoubtedly a Federation vessel, and Khan can feel the fury boiling beneath his skin.
On of the patrons notices him, and his physical state - favoring his right side, breath rapid and shallow, streaked in his own blood - and approaches. But the adrenaline from his fight is still coursing through him, and the second the crew member draws near, Khan lashes out. A sweep to the knees gets him on his back, and the augment is instantly upon his prey, hauling him with a crushing grip to his throat.
"Where am I?"
The question is snarled, but directed to the room at large. And if one of them dares to approach... well. Khan's killed hundreds, perhaps thousands today. One more is nothing.