A/N: Sorry for the delay, my laptop decided to die and (like a scrub) I didn't have this backed up so I have to start the chapter again and I left it for ages (again, like a scrub). Fucken finally did it. Geez. (I love what I do I love what I do I love what I do)

Chapter 9 – *cue Top Gun music*

As they flew across the plains, that were almost desolate apart from a few shrubs here and there, the destination warning light flashed up on Pocket's display, We're nearly there, she thought aloud to Rage and Hollow. Rage placed his pocket photograph of his lizard; Alia, long since dead, back in his breast pocket and Hollow sat back up from his recline and rolled his shoulders back and forth and twisted his neck to the left, then right to work out the kinks in his muscles.
As they reached a small hill Hollow leaned forward and widened his eyes as he saw the giant, black compound. The ground in and around it was blackened and looked like the moisture had been sucked from it. Even the plants outside of the barbed wire (and most likely electrified) fences were shrivelled and wilting like short, old people covered in soot.
A small burst of static followed by a snarling, animalistic voice came from a small radio set on the dash, "This is DarkMoon airspace, declare your intentions or your men will be destroyed, your craft will be crushed for scrap and any women And children aboard will be solved as slaves.
"Go fuck yourself… with a cactus," replied Rage, malice tinting his voice.
"Well now we definitely have to kill them all. Nobody likes being fucked by a cactus," added Hollow, humorously.
"You guys are weird. I love it," Pocket said further antagonising the DarkMoon on the receiving end of the transmission. The mortality of the situation did not seem to affect them.
"I repeat. Declare your intentions or you will be killed and/or worse," the voice repeated.
Hollow cut the connection and armed his turrets. Rage and Pocket did the same.
Pocket spotted two hanger doors on the largest building open. Two machines that looked a lot like New Londo sharks – they had been discovered recently by ruin divers – coasted down the middle of the courtyard. They had blades above the main body and the whole thing was painted jet black. At the back was a tailfin-like structure with another blade. This one was set vertically as opposed to the others which were horizontal. The cockpit was a rectangle of glass at the front of the steel beast. At the nose there was a cylinder protruding from underneath and at the side were small imp-like wings with pods hanging underneath with 7 holes in a honeycomb pattern at the front of each pod.
Hollow assumed that the pods contained short range projectiles because of their size and shape. They obviously would be weapons. What else would they be for? Suddenly, the blades on the roof of the crafts started to spin in their holdings. The blades at the back followed soon after. The blades had now sped up to a blur and Hollow could no longer discern them from each other.
Each machine rose from the ground slowly and turned toward them. Once the craft were nearly one hundred meters away, Hollow opened the channel and made his demands, "Order your pilots to stand down or they will be killed."
The voice returned and simply growled, "Die!"
Hollow thought, So be it.
 Soon after a blinking warning light flared up on Rage's display, meaning that the enemy had locked onto their heat signature. As the light distracted him, he noticed movement in pods on either side of the closest helicopter's pods. "They're launching missiles," he mumbled almost to himself.
Hollow looked down at his display and opened up the program that contained the cameras mounted on the blue turrets, preparing himself to blast the missiles out of the sky. As one missile was fired out of each pod with a dull thumping sound and then the sound of canvas tearing under a blunt knife Hollow again looked down to his display, firing four shots at the missiles. One connected and tore the projectile in half, the rear end spiralling out of control whilst the payload fell toward the ground and crunched into the terrain. The second missile had remained unhindered and continued on its path toward them.
Pocket, just in time, threw her mind into literally doing a barrel roll. The missile scraped along the right side of the hull but the contact was not enough to detonate (imagine that in slow motion). The missile continued on its path for a good three seconds before attempting to turn around but its fuel level's ran too short and soon fell toward the ground like a stone in a pool of water.
Well, that was close as dicks, Rage thought to Hollow and Pocket with relief creeping into his voice. Rage activated his turret cameras and swept over to the enemy helicopters' position. He trained onto the closest, which was still advancing, and corrected his aim; allowing for distance. He fired one shot after two others. The first shot destroyed the opponent's leftmost missile pod, encasing the vehicle in flames. The heat must have incinerated the pilots because the helicopter began to list forward and fall until it was almost completely upside down when the rotors sliced into the ground, firing shrapnel into the air. The craft came to a standstill, lying on its side. The rotor-blades were no more than nubs protruding from the top.
Hollow heard a rapid drumming sound from the remaining helicopter. Hollow turned towards it and saw a flashing flow out of the nozzle at its nose and heard the smashing of the glass at the front of his pod and then he felt something hot hit him in the chest and heard a sickening crunch and then everything went dark.

When Hollow awoke, he realized he was lying on blackened ground and he felt a headache and an intense ache in his left side. He tried to sit up but the pain only worsened and he felt grating from inside his chest.
"Don't sit up. Your rib's broken," Someone said from behind his head. He felt, it was Rage. "Drink this," He continued.
"Estus?"
"Nope. Something stronger. Drink it. It'll fix your rib and might even fix your headache. I can practically smell pain emanating from you." Hollow raised his head and took hold of the vial Rage was holding above his face. He took a draft and instantly regretted it. The liquid tasted like muddy water mixed with crushed spiders.
"Oh, what the -" Hollow tried to demand but was cut short as his rib snapped back into place scraping past muscle, causing his back to arc in pain. He cried out and scrabbled at the sooty ground. "What hit me, anyway?" Hollow asked in a pained voice.
"Some sort of weapon was fired and hit you straight in the chest." Rage replied. "Fortunately your armour absorbed most of the impact but it caved in on you and snapped the sixth rib on your left side. We had to discard the main plate but there is some left that was worth rescuing. Plus you have your under-mail which will still do you good." Hollow then stood up as Rage explained.
"Where's –" Hollow tried to say but was cut off by Rage.
"She's scouting the wreckages of the helicopters for survivors," He was right on time with that as Pocket came into view. She looked worried and had a small cut on her face that had a drop of blood welling at the edge.
"One was still alive. Jammy bugger threw a piece of shrapnel at me," Pocket started and then smiled. "You're awake. I was worried about you."
"About me? Why would I be in anymore danger. A broken rib can barely stop me without Rage and you, let alone WITH you guys," Hollow said, reaching for the cut but she stepped out of his reach.
"Don't. It would be unnecessary to waste it on something so trivial," Pocket said. "Anyway, we have work to do." She started walking toward the complex and reached for the hatchet that was slipped into her belt and unclipped the round-shield from her back. Rage slipped the staff from its place on his waist. Hollow looked around for his weapons and found them on the floor next to wear he laid when he was unconscious.