OOC: Just a little intro to our next sim, no need to respond, just setting the stage for our next adventure

Just as a sailboat is demolished in the onslaught and is left barely adrift afterwards, simply going where the current takes it, Leviathan floated through space. Fractures covered the hull like chickenpox, and bodies floated just outside of the ship, ice cubes, frozen solid by the coldness of space, drifted away from the ship. Emergency force fields had bandaged the holes, but they were faint, and several were very weak, the possibility of system failure bringing their chance of collapse up by the second.

The Klaxon echoed through the vacant corridors, it cried out, demanding attention, hoping somebody would answer its decries of warning. The ship was filled with a blood red hue in one second, and then the next plunged into total darkness. The only source lighting the interior, was the intermittent red glow of the ‘red alert’ system, shouting at the crew to alarm them of the danger. The ship’s crew, normally receptive to the sights and sounds, was not responding, consoles were unmanned, stations abandoned, and systems unattended to. Despite the ship’s cries, nobody seemed to notice, and the vessel continued to float precariously through space.

Onboard the ship, there was no movement, bodies were strewn about on every deck, Some corridors could easily be mistaken for morgues. Looks of confusion, fear, and panic were forever frozen on several faces of the crew. The blood pouring from each of their bodies complemented the color of the red alert status. Some of the bodies were in several pieces, others were intact, but devoid of all blood as it oozed out of every orifice.

Then, a single thud echoed throughout the ship, and then another, and another. The sounds soon formed the pattern which a foot makes as it travels down a hallway. A single silhouette made his way through the bowels of Leviathan. He calmly and nonchalantly stepped over the bodies of his fellow crew-mates, avoiding the puddles of blood only to avoid staining his clothes. A a grin, a satisfied and content grin, shined every other second as the lights illuminated the corridor. The figure moved into the turbolift, “Bridge.” He ordered. The ship obliged, and sent him on his way to the top deck. The man felt something wet and looked down and then took a step back, groaning, the body the ship’s Chief of Security was in the turbolift, and the man had gotten some of her blood on his shoe.

After a few moments, the doors opened, and the figure stepped onto Leviathan’s bridge triumphantly. A maniacal laugh escaped his lips and even in the darkness, his eyes glowed brightly with feeling of victory. He had won, he was always going to. He surveyed his handiwork. The alcoholic slumped in the Captain’s chair was leaning back against, blood pouring out of his mouth like a mall fountain. His second in command lay not three feet away, a massive cavity in his torso, his eyes fixed in a look of shock. The ship’s counselor was not much better off. Her body looked deflated, as her skin and bones lay in a pool of blood. The figure looked to his right, the borg’s body looked like a fried piece of wood, the mechanical parts of her were sizzling, and her skin as black with chalky, smoke rose delicately from her corpse.

His moment of revelry was caught shut. There was a new sound, a sensor alert was going off, the figure glided over the console and looked over the readouts, a temporal anomaly had formed right on top of ship, and with all propulsion systems offline, there was no way to get away from it. The figure could do nothing but watch the anomaly envelope the ship on the viewscreen. In anger, he let out a primal roar of rage.

Storyteller S