DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of it.
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In The Name of The Father
Chapter
XII
One Toolbox
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Curiosity had a way of consuming Dr. Crowley. Although he should've been focused on the bronze cylinder, he was more interested in the sound. The deafening roar of the outside world was too intriguing for him to ignore. "Hello!" he called in his English accent. "Is anybody out there?"
The rotor blades of the helicopter continued to reverberate like thunder just outside the entrance to the Catacombs.
"Goodness gracious! What is causing that tumult?" Crowley continued to ponder the question as he made his way to the mouth of the cave. "People should have more consideration when -"
The sight of the massive machine, coupled with the over powering roar of the turbines and the hurricane-like wind that enveloped him, was enough to take Crowley's breath away. He'd assumed the noise was probably a piece of equipment working on the plateau above but never expected to see a helicopter staring him in the face from more than 700 feet in the air.
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The man in the passenger seat grinned, then ordered the pilot to rotate to the left. A split second later, the man's Beretta M501 sniper rifle was out the side window, and Crowley was in its crosshairs.
"Gentlemen," he whispered into his headset, "the Lord works in mysterious ways."
The two soldiers stopped their ascent up the plateau and looked skyward, though their angle prevented them from seeing anything of value. "What's going on, sir? Is everything all right?"
The man squinted as he adjusted his scope. "It will be in a moment. One shot, and our biggest problem is history."
They nodded in understanding. "What should we do?"
He shoved the rifle's recoil pad against his shoulder and tried to compensate for the chopper's way. "Keep on climbing. I'll need you to deal with the other man inside the Catacombs and seal the site."
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Crowley shielded his eyes the best he could, but the mixture of dust and sunlight prevented him from seeing much. "Hello!" he screamed. "Can I help you with something?"
When he heard nothing, he figured he needed to alter his approach. So instead of shouting, he simply wave at the helicopter, hoping its passengers would wave back, then move on.
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"Hold steady," the sniper ordered. "Steady!"
But it was an impossible task. The wind was surging off the top of the ridge like a waterfull, then swirling on its descent to the rocky terrain below. The result was an aeronautical nightmare, a pocket of turbulence that literally chewed at the lift the helicopter was trying to produce. The pilot did his best to compensate, increasing and decreasing the pitch of the main rotor. But it made little difference. Choppers weren't meant to fly in these conditions.
"I'm losing it," warned the pilot. "I swear to you I'm losing it!"
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With camera in hand, Castiel strolled into the colorful first chamber, making his way directly to the Catacombs' exit. As he crawled through the narrow opening, he suddenly became aware the noise and vibrations that had intrigued Crowley.
"Professor?"
He continued up the slope of the rocky trail, trying to shield his eyes from the intense glare. With the exception of his hand, the only thing protecting him from total blindness was the figure that stood in the cave's entrance. And from his chubby frame, he knew it was Crowley.
"Professor? What's making that noise?"
Before Crowley could respond, he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, then watched in horror as Crowley turned from his perch and scrambled down the path. Without hesitation Crowley buried his shoulder into his gut and tackled him to the floor, protecting him from the blitzkrieg. Skidding to a painful stop, Crowley grabbed his hand and dragged him to the nearby corner, making sure they were out of the gunman's range. "Are you all right?" Crowley demanded. "Are you hurt?"
Stunned, he took a moment to probe his body. "No, I'm fine."
Crowley climbed to his feet and peeked around the nearest outcropping. The roar of the chopper still thundered outside. "I think we're in trouble. There's a helicopter out there."
"A helicopter?"
"Yes! And it's got a nasty little passenger. All I did was wave, and he started shooting at me!" He peered around the rock, still unable to see. "But that's not the worst thing. I saw a sign on the chopper that said Polizia."
"What? Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious." Crowley grabbed his hand. "Listen to me, we're in grave danger. But if you follow my lead, we'll survive."
"We can defeat an armed helicopter?"
"Yes! But we have to act quickly. If they land and come inside, we're going to be killed."
"Wait! You want to fight a helicopter? With what exactly?"
Crowley rushed to the corner and rummaged through their tools. "Did we bring any rope?"
"Rope? Not with us. We left that in the truck."
Quickly, Crowley turned the toolbox upside down and dumped its contents with a loud clatter. "I guess this will have to do instead."
Castiel stared at him, confused. "You asked for a rope but settled for a toolbox? Do you mind telling me what you're going to do?"
"Watch and learn, Cas. Watch and learn."
Crowley carried the box toward the entrance of the cave and studied the machine that threaten their lives. It hovered less than fifty feet in front of the opening, its occupants glaring out the front window of the craft. "Cas, come here. Grab the camera and anything you want to take with us. Whether this work or not, I think it's best if we leave this place as soon as possible."
"We're leaving?"
"Go!" he ordered. "And be quick about it!"
Castiel scampered to the rear while Crowley moved forward, boldly walking into the line of fire. He wasn't sure if his idea was going to work, but he figured it was better than being trapped inside the Catacombs without any weapons. "Hey you twat! Come and get me!"
Crowley quickly repeated the phrase in Italian, just to make sure they understood his command. The chopper instantly moved closer, trying to reduce the angle between the sniper and target, hoping to avoid another misfire. But the maneuver was a tactical mistake. As the craft inched forward, Crowley extended the toolbox behind him, then tossed it underhanded as far as he could. The container sailed through the air until it floated into the path of the main rotor blades.
As the box closed in, the pilot suddenly realized what was about to happen. He'd been so concerned about the gusting wind and the dangerous rock face that he never paid attention to Crowley or his toolbox. It was an oversight that would cost him his life.
Clank!
Metal struck metal in a sickening scream, shattering two of the four rotor blades on contact and sending shrapnel in every direction. With the sudden loss of lift, the chopper lurched forward, missing the rock face by inches before the pilot managed to pull the craft back. The sudden change in pitch couldn't be handled by the rear rotor, causing the vehicle to spin like a broken Tilt-A-Whirl as it tumbled toward Crowley's truck 700 feet below. Second later, the crunch of metal was masked by the powerful explosion that engulfed the side of the rock face, literally shaking the ground underneath Crowley's feet.
"Brilliant!" Crowley cheered. "Bloody brilliant!"
As the roar continued, Castiel burst from the interior of the cave to see what had happened. "Professor, are you . . . " Before he could finish his question, he noticed the bright ball of fire. Orange and red flames shot high into the air as thick clouds of black smoke surged from the smoldering wreckage. "Holy Mother of God! You broke their helicopter. And our truck!"
He nodded, happy with his handiwork. "Thank goodness we paid the renter's insurance."
Normally Castiel would've howled at his comment, but Crowley didn't give him the chance. Crowley grabbed his armed and pulled him back inside, where he started gathering his equipment. Unfortunately, he was forced to stop when he heard a distant rumbling.
"Cas? What is that? Is that another chopper?"
Castiel grimaced, then took a few steps toward the mouth of the cave. Leaning back, he glanced at the cliffs above him. A slow trickle of rocks and debris were heading down the steep slope. "This isn't good."
In a flash Crowley knew what was happening. The impact of the explosion had forced the ground around them to shake, producing the last thing that he wanted. "Avalanche!"
The duo burst from the tunnel entrance, running as fast as they could. Although it was risky choice, they knew they'd rather face an onslaught of falling rocks than the sudden impact of a cave-in. Debris they could dodge. Collapsing tunnels they couldn't.
Grabbing Castiel by the hand, he led the way along the narrow rock face, making sure they stayed together as they hugged the wall of the cliff. They scurried on the precipice for several seconds whey they realized they couldn't outrun the falling debris. the footing was too unstable, and stones were too constant for escape. They needed to find cover and hope for the best.
They scrambled under the first ridge they found, hoping the large outcropping would shield them from the debris. Unfortunately, as they stood underneath the slab, they realized that the ledge had several cracks near its base, flaws that might collapse when put under sudden duress.
"Please hold!" Crowley begged. "Oh God, please hold! I don't wanted to die like this."
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The two soldiers stared in disbelief as the helicopter plummeted past them. Flames shot skyward like a geyser from hell, forcing the men to cower against the rock face for protection. But it wasn't the heat that they needed to worry about.
The landslide started with a trickle. First a pebble, then a stone, and finally a massive boulder. Before long, half the damn ridge was heading toward them, and they realized it was just a matter of time before they'd be joining their commander in the afterworld. The younger of the two men was lucky one, for he died without suffering. A sharp piece of rock hit him squarely on the head, shattering his skull and rupturing his frontal lobe like a blow from a battle-ax. One minute he was by his partner's side, the next he was splattered on his face.
Soon his lifeless body was swept down the cliff face in a torrent of dust and stones.
The older man tried to ignore the gruesome scene, though it was impossible. Chunks of brain stuck to his face like scraps of sushi, while blood seeped into the corner of his eyes, stealing his ability to see. Despite this hindrance, he somehow managed to hang on, shaking off the falling stones that tore at his flesh, praying he could somehow survive this horror and scramble back to his squad in one piece. But it was not to be.
The rock that sealed his fate struck him squarely on the right shoulder, ripping his arm from its socket with a nauseating pop and shattering his clavicle like it was made of glass. He teered on the edge for several seconds - just enough time to express his agony with scream that rose about the roar of the fire below - before crashing to the earth.
One toolbox. Four dead.
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The outcropping shook and trembled throughout the landslide. Castiel watched nervously as stones plunged past him, but nothing, not even the tiniest of pebbles, managed to find them in their protective haven.
After the rocks and debris subsided, Castiel said a short prayer of thanks, then turned to check on Crowley. His face was more pale than usual, but a smirk was etched on his lips. "Are you OK?"
Crowley took a deep breath. "Peachy. And you?"
"I'm fine." Castiel showed him the camera that he clasped in his hand. "So is the video."
"Oh God! The cylinder!" Crowley frantically moved his fanny pack, hoping that the artifact had stayed in the pocket of his shorts during all the chaos. When he felt the metal, he smiled, knowing they had lucked out. "Well, Cas, it appears that things aren't a total loss."
"No, but pretty close." Castiel pointed toward the Catacombs. Their entrance was now covered in debris. "I don't think anyone will be using that door in the near future."
Crowley grinned as he inspected the rubble. "Good! In the meantime we can take our video to the authorities and use it as proof of our discovery. Then we can come back with proper protection and stake our official claim to this site!"
"Yes," he sighed, "if there is anything left to claim."
"Don't worry. I'm sure we won't leave Italy empty-handed."
And Crowley knew that was true, for even if the Catacombs had been completely destroyed, he realized that he already possessed the object that he had come to Orvieto for.
The bronze cylinder.
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TBC
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AN:
Beretta M501 sniper rifle - is the Italian Army sniper rifle. The integral harmonic balancer, contained within a tube hidden in the forend of the stock, is used to reduce the vibrations of the barrel, helping to improve accuracy. The rifle has been around since the mid 80's, and has earned a solid reputation as a fine sniper rifle. It could probably even be better with a synthetic stock, though the contour of the current stock is excellent. The rifle is issued with 1.5-6x42mm Zeiss scope. I have never seen one of these available in the US, and I'm not sure they are available outside the Italian military.
Blitzkrieg - describing a method of warfare whereby an attacking force spearheaded by a dense concentration of armoured and motorized or mechanized infantry formations, and heavily backed up by close air support.
Tilt-A-Whirl - also known as Waltzer in Europe, is one of the best-known flat rides, designed for commercial use at amusement parks, fairsand carnivals in which it is commonly found.
Avalanche - Slides of rocks or debris, behaving in a similar way to snow, are also referred to as avalanche.
Source: Snipercentral; Wikipedia.
