Author's Note: Our deepest apologies. We tried to upload this last night, but ff.net decided that it wasn't going to let us log in. Sorry about that. Hopefully we will have the next chapter up by Sunday. Keep in mind that we make no promises, as Sun Queen and Ivory Moon are both busy this weekend, and Eirual got bitten by a plot bunny at three thirty last night. Enjoy the chapter :).



Chopper One-One-One

Soundtrack: Superman (Five for Fighting)

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me

I'm more than a bird……I'm more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me

Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd……but don't be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed……but won't you concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me

Up, up and away……away from me
It's all right……You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy……or anything……

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It's not easy to be me.

Despite its odd beginning, Adam's week had settled into some sort of normalcy. While he didn't forget about the mysterious blond, Saturday night had drifted to the back of Adam's mind. His curiosity had waned as several entirely rational explanations had taken root in his mind.

Alice had called in sick earlier, so that had left Adam alone on chopper duty tonight. Truth be told, he didn't really mind; aerial patrol was rarely boring, and good ol' Harry was the pilot on duty this week .

The helicopter pad was situated on the wide, flat roof of Precinct 111. As Adam approached the old Phantom-014 military chopper, a grinning face poked out the pilot's side. Harry Ronan was a weathered old veteran; he'd been decorated in the war over a decade ago, and was the best pilot in the NY force.

"'Lo, Adam," he greeted cheerfully. Harry had lived in New York all his life, (as had his parents and grandparents), yet still managed to retain a heavy Australian accent. Adam sometimes wondered if he was faking it. "We gonna take this bird up t'night?""

"Hey Harry." The young cop smiled, and swung himself up into the copilot's seat. As the chopper was a military model, it was designed for the low-altitude transportation of troops. Neither the cockpit nor the main body of the craft sported doors, only a smooth drop-off to open space. Adam had always found it somewhat disconcerting, but he quelled his fears and strapped himself in next to the indomitable old Australian.

"Roight then!" The running lights snapped on as the huge engines roared to life, the overhead rotors slowly gathering speed. Adam closed his eyes as the *chop-chop* of the rotors grew in intensity, lifting them sluggishly off the launching pad.

Once the craft was in flight, Adam relaxed visibly and opened his eyes. Harry was the best pilot in the business, and had been flying this circuit for almost ten years. There was really nothing to worry about. Still, the nagging, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to be quelled.

"Alroight then," said Harry, casually adjusting his headset, and started recording the flight log with an ease that came only from long experience. "It is ten-fifty-one PM, and we are headed out over the Hudson Rivah at a speed of approximately one hundred and ten kilometres per how-ah, at a height of-" he checked his instrument panel, "two hundred and eight metres." He turned to grin at Adam. "Refreshments will now be sah-ved in the main cabin. For those of you in the co-pilot's seat, air-sickness bags can be found to your roight-"

"Ha ha, Harry. Very funny, Harry. Now I know why they stuck you here flying this old chopper every night."

Adam was distracted from Harry's reply; it came again, a flash of light on metal in his side mirror. He frowned, as the image resolved itself into another helicopter, a black one. "Harry, did we have an escort assigned with us tonight?"

"Not to my knowledge, no- Sweet Jaysus!"

An explosion rocked the chopper, throwing both occupants to the right. Adam gripped his restraints, gasping, realising he'd almost been pitched clear out of the cockpit. "They're firing at us!"

"Not if I can help it!" Grim faced, Harry pulled himself back into his seat, yanking the control stick to the side. "They disahmed this bird when they put 'er into the police service. We're gonna hafta outfly 'em."

Adam watched in slack-jawed amazement as Harry threw the old chopper into a steep dive. The altitude dial clicked towards zero, and they pulled up at the last instant, the helicopter's belly almost brushing the dark choppy water.

Grabbing the radio mike, Adam watched as the black chopper gained on them again, even as the altitude ticked higher and higher. "This is the New York City Police Helicopter One-one-one. We are under attack." Adam felt shrapnel graze his cheek. He continued as calmly as he could. "Repeat, this is the NYPD 'chopper one-one-one. We are under attack by an unknown, hostile force--"