DR: Still unbeta-ed I'm afraid, so please excuse and (gently) point out any errors you might find.
Michael Knight glanced nervously about as they drove up the dusty road. The Nevada landscape around was composed of dusty red rocks and sand, with only straggly yellowed grass and a few hard-wearing bushes to break up the monotony. According to KITT, they were close to a area known as the 'Devils Anvil'. It certainly had the look for it.
He glanced once one towards the passenger seat. Bonnie had drifted off once more. They had driven through the night to get here, KITT taking over while the two of them had slept in the back, or at least tried to. Bonnie was still on the ragged edge; the shock, horror and terror of her ordeal still sinking in. She'd cried to sleep in his arms the previous night after removing the detonator from KARR's booby-trapped CPU. He would remain at the Mansion until the situation with Garthe was resolved.
"Michael, there's a checkpoint up ahead." KITT's calm tones cut into his thoughts, prompting Michael to look up and out. Sure enough the road ahead was blocked by a simple gatehouse, a chain fence stretching off to each side into the landscape. The figures of two men were visible, both clearly armed.
Gently he reached across to shake his wife's arm. "Wake up, we're here."
Bonnie started at first, but then Michael's words penetrated her brain and she looked around. Quickly her eyes locked onto the checkpoint.
As they drew closer Michael saw some interesting signs. The checkpoint hut was heavily weathered, the chain fence rusted. The paint on the bar that blocked their path was so faded the red stripes were barely visible from the white.
But the two men stood each side were clearly professional, and their weapons clean. Michael was reassured that neither man un-slung them as they pulled up.
Winding the window down, Michael summoned a breezy smile. "Hi."
The plain faced guard leaned down, but not in a threatening manner. "Name?"
"Michael Knight, and my wife Bonnie."
The guard nodded. "You're expected. Once you reach the complex, head to the right. You'll see the main hanger easily enough." He waved to the other man who raised the bar.
"Much obliged." Michael replied as he allowed KITT to start forwards once more.
After a couple more minutes driving along the dusty road they rounded a corner and reached the base. Like the checkpoint the buildings were weathered from being out in this harsh environment for many years. The main structure appeared to be mainly administration. There was another block like building to the left, but to the right the end of a runway was visible.
Diving down the side of the runway the main hanger was, as the guard said, was obvious. The other hangers were smaller, closed, while a figure clothed in white standing in the open doorway of the largest.
Getting out of KITT, The Knights approached the woman stood before them. "Mr Knight?" She asked, dark eyes assessing them both.
"Yes, and this is my wife." Michael answered. "And you are?" He asked as he studied her. Her café-latte skin was mostly smooth, though there were hints of lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. The dark hair was still thick and rich, but in the direct sun there were glints of sliver. The white blouse and skirt were simple yet elegant.
"Marella. Please step inside, everyone's here."
The Knights followed her inside, KITT rolling in behind them. Dominating the space within was not one, but two Airwolf helicopters. The one was the one from the other day, with torn and twisted armour. The other was a little sharper, sleeker. Banks of older computers and thick cables were scattered around.
Marella led them over to the cluster of people who sat or stood close to the noses of the helicopters. The two to the far left they already knew: Saint-John and Jo Hawke. They should before the pilots door of the newer looking, undamaged helicopter.
Just before that helicopters nose were another clear couple. The man wore a worn flying jacket and jeans, his eyes hidden behind dark aviator glasses underneath greying mink-brown hair. The slight figured red-haired woman stood confidently, arms folded over her cowboy shirt.
Sitting slightly further back was a middle-aged woman who had to be the sister of the unknown man by the helicopter: Their features were too similar to be anything else, though they were softer on her. Stood with her was a slight blond-haired man with a face that Michael could see would easily be charmingly roguish.
A younger man was sat in front of a set of computers. Clearly Saint-John's kid brother, he however that air about him that almost sang 'computer geek'.
And finally there was an older, lean faced man sat in a chair, legs stretched out before him. He was dressed completely in white: white shoes, trousers, shirt and jacket. Even his hair was nearly white. The only things different were the rosewood cane that rested against the chair, and the left half of his glasses; it was completely blacked out, a rim added to complete obscure the eye behind it.
As Marella walked over to stand besides him, Michael met the single eye visible... and felt the cool, assessing gaze. He would have been at all surprised if it turned this man had once been a government agent.
"Mr and Mrs Knight, welcome to Red Star." The man spoke calmly, his voice still strong. His eye focused on the black shape that had followed them in. "And this is KITT, I presume?"
"You may. And thank you for the recognition." KITT replied, prompting a raised eyebrow and a half smile from the seated man, and a few flinches from the others. "How is Airwolf?"
On a large screen on the wall behind the white suited figure words appeared.
I am well. They only damaged my shell. As you can see, I have another
"Most useful, I image."
Very
A half suppressed chuckle came from the other end of the group, and Michael saw the red-head lift a hand to her mouth, hiding the smile there. The expression of the man with her had softened, displaying a little boyish charm.
"If those two can stop flirting now..." The white suited man asked with good-natured exasperation "...I gather you already know Saint-john and Jo..." At their nods his hand drifted towards the others. "May I introduced Stringfellow and Catlin Hawke, Sarah and Mike Rivers, and Sebastian Hawke. You may call me Archangel. Seb, could you bring up the data Airwolf has been refusing to share now?"
Even before the youngest male had completed his turn, the massive monitor lit up, displaying an image of Goliath II.
Michael's heart froze for a moment. The sight of that monster still terrified him; He'd had a restless sleep the other night, plagued by the image of that juggernaut.
Drawing a deep breath he looked at the others, those who had not seen this before. All humour and good cheer had gone; now there was just shock and awe. The red-head, Catlin, was wide eyed, mouth slightly open.
"God in heaven." She muttered, her voice reminding Michael of a reporter he'd once met on a case.
The two other women pulled back, moving behind the men they were with slightly. Even Marella appeared to need comfort, her hand moving to Archangel's shoulder.
After several long seconds he spoke once more. "Talk to me Seb. What are we looking at."
The young man jumped, then turned to the console before him. As he tapped away, the screen shifted, the image replaced with rows of text.
"Michael... according to Airwolf, that thing's got a twelve-litre, eighteen cylinder engine, twenty-six... Jesus! ... thirty-two inch wheels. And she's armed with..." He trailed off. After several seconds he continued, voice trembling.
"A pair of 120mm cannons, still in the turrets from M1's... the turret from a Russian ZSU-44 with added Stinger missile pods... thirty-six 66mm LAW rockets... two .50 calibres and ten M60 machineguns. Two miniguns and a pair of what she thinks are flame throwers."
"And it's all wrapped in an extra thick MBS." Michael Knight put in, shaking his head. "Garthe's really gone overboard this time."
Several sets of eyes snapped to him. "You met him before?"
Michael nodded. "Twice. Both times he had Goliath the First. Big, but still mostly standard truck. It was also coated in MBS. He had rockets mounted on the roof at first, but used most of them breaking into the missile storage complex at Red Bluff. We actually used the last to kill Goliath that time.
"The second time he didn't have the rockets, but had made some changes so that the weaknesses we used before were protected. He went through two armoured cars before we tricked him into going over a cliff and into the sea." He hung his head a little. "I had hoped that he had drowned."
"This m-bee-ess..." The question came from Mike Rivers, who was looking between the others. "...what is it?"
Bonnie stepped forwards. "Molecular Bonded Shell. A chemical treatment is applied to any rigid surface. The molecules in the chemical form links between each other, linking around the material it is applied to. This forms a rigid shell that is almost impossible..." she glanced sharply at Michael, who looked sheepish. "...to harm or deform under blunt force or edged impacts. It is bulletproof, and can be applied to ordinary car glass as well. Treating flexible materials however requires a modified, weaker version. The MBS also prevents corrosion."
The man whistled. "That's some treatment. Why hasn't the military got it though?"
Bonnie shook her head. "Too expensive for large scale use. And while it's ideal against small arms and shrapnel, direct explosive impacts, such as rockets or shells, can breach the shell. It is also susceptible to high intensity heat."
The screen blanked, before words appeared.
From the results of my attack, Garthe Knight must have lined the inside of the M.B.S. on Goliath II with more traditional armour plate. It is the only way that it could have withstood Bullpup anti-ship missiles with such minor damage
Jo Hawke shook her head. "What kind of man is this? He's made this impregnable rolling fortress! What the hell does he want? Is he mad?"
"Very. But also very serious. And unscrupulous."
Heads turned to regard the man stood with the red-head.
"And how do you know that String?" Saint-John asked, looking askew at his brother. "And while we're at it, why did you insist on us meeting like this while our kids are on snap holidays?"
String shifted. "Somehow he knows who I am, my connection with Airwolf." String glanced towards his wife. "He visited the cabin last night Catlin."
Catlin gasped, then reached a hand out to rest it on his shoulder.
The former agent sighed. "What did he want?"
String looked back at him. "To deliver a warning; Stay out of his way." The chill that entered his tone was unmistakable. "He threatened our family Michael."
The way expressions darkened clued Michael Knight in that this was the worst thing Garthe could have done... from his point of view.
"So..." Mike asked into the silence that had fallen. "...What's our plan?"
Michael was amused to see most eyes jump between String and Archangel. The two in question looked at each, small smiles shared.
"You said extreme heat works against this stuff?" String asked.
"Yes, it was a concern for us on a few occasions." Bonnie replied. We came up with temporary ways around each one, but nothing that would last longer than a few minutes."
"Would a volcano do the trick?"
Bonnie frowned. "Yeah, but it'd have to be 'fresh' magma. Besides where are you going to get an active volcano we could use?"
Archangel stroked his moustache. "There has been some talk in government recently about trying to relieve the magma building up under Yellowstone, before a major eruption."
Michael frowned. "Yellowstone?"
Archangel nodded. "Yellowstone National Park is actual the caldera for a super-volcano. One that, according to volcanologists, is over-due for an eruption."
River's leaned back. "Oh. So we lure Garthe and his monster into Yellowstone and then... what? Hope the whole place goes up while he's in there?"
"No." String replied. "We make a small eruption happen underneath him." He looked at Archangel squarely. "And you've already got a way to do that."
Archangel's smile widened a little. "Maybe..."
He was interrupted by doors on the far side of the room bursting open and an older red-head rushed in.
"Archangel, String! You've going to need to see this!" She called as she reached the main screen. Hitting some switches turned the screen to CNN.
"...No warning at all. Breaking news coming in, as you can see, a massive armed vehicle is tearing up the main street in Los Angeles..."
The rest of the announcers words were lost as the gathered people watched the massive, black form carve a path of destruction through the city, gunfire stabbing out from all sides as cars were smashed aside, not even flinching the monster.
Goliath.
Michael felt his stomach rebel when the forward tank turret turned and fired. Moments later the front of a department store blew out in fire and smoke. The impact of bullets could be seen all over the street as people ran, trying to find cover.
A jet of flame bleached from the side of the trailer, washing over a newsstand, which was instantly turned to fire. He felt Bonnie whirl into his arms as a thrashing torch detached from the pyre, limbs flailing.
"...it came out of no where, there has been no list of demands, no warning at all..."
"...seems intent on destruction..."
"...Local police seem unable to even slow it down... oh god!"
On the screen a missile had just shot out of the top turret and blown a police helicopter out of the air. The camera wheeled; the pilot clearly had decided to get some distance between his craft and that beast.
For several long minutes they watched, powerless to act, as LA was torn apart. For many, it was just like that day back in 2001; September 11. They had been powerless to stop events then, for it had been far too late to act.
The monster, so massive it took up two whole lanes of the road, powered down the street. As the camera pitched up, Catlin gasped.
The south-eastern FBI headquarters loomed ahead.
-KR-AW-KW-
The FBI building in Los Angeles had been built with external assault in mind. The glass on the bottom three floors was bullet proof, the foyer doors and window panels triple glazed with security glass. And lining the road outside, a good three hundred yards before the building, were solid concrete bollards capable of withstanding the assault from a Sherman tank.
Those same bollards shattered before Goliath II, not even slowing down the juggernaut. Personal within the lobby fell back in horror as the monstrous black shape approached rapidly. Seconds before impact a flurry of rockets and shells tore into the upper floors, shattering glass and ruining supports.
The steel and armoured glass doors and front wall shattered as Goliath punched through, sending a hail of razor sharp shards through the foyer. Those who were not struck down had no respite, as the guns on the side of the monster continued to fire even as it punched deeper into the building. The two flame-throwers were going constantly, leaving a thick coating of burning napalm in their wake.
The central lift shafts were torn open, and major water and power lines torn. Offices disappeared as Goliath smashed through them. Goliath bore right through the building, tearing apart supports, ripping out the heart of the foundation.
With a shower of glass Goliath burst from the other side of the structure, smashing aside several cars even as it emerged. Many more were shot up as the machine crashed out of the FBI parking area and back into the city, barely slowed.
It left behind a gaping hole smashed right through the building, lined with fire. Thick smoke poured from the holes as the fires spread and found new sources of fuel. Rubble continued to fall from the ruined areas of the building. Just to add insult to the injury, the rear tank turret fired a shell into an upper floor, exploding the office area into fire and death.
The building shuddered, and the sections above the destroyed area dropped. For a moment it looked like the building would collapse, but then everything stilled, the neat framework of steel showing the distortion.
Up the street Goliath II continued its rampage.