Tuesday, May 30th, 2017
20:18 GMT+1 (18:18 GMT May 30th)
London, England
The team swiftly exfiltrated themselves from the railway station and they moved southeast to Vincent Square, where there was a cricket pitch.
Squatting on the grass, in the darkness, as if it were perfectly normal to find a fourteen-tonne flying machine on the ground in central London, was NIGHTSHADE. On either side of the giant helicopter, Scorpion and Goshawk were keeping watch, L22A2 assault carbines in their hands and NVGs affixed to their flight helmets. As the twenty-one members of Vengeance approached, Goshawk moved forward to check who was approaching, despite having been informed over her communications by Q. While Scorpion climbed aboard and began the start-up sequence, Goshawk moved their passengers into place, guiding them via the tail and up the ramp. One by one, she shoved them into a crew seat, twenty of which were affixed to the port and starboard bulkheads facing inboard, ten per side. Once all but Chief, Ajax and Stripe were seated, Goshawk connected up her helmet to the helicopter's communications systems via an overly long coiled cable before she ensured all were strapped in. Ajax covered the starboard side of the aircraft with a SIG Sauer MPX assault rifle while Stripe was aft, covering the rear of the aircraft from the ramp. Chief was covering the portside from the forward hatch. Once Goshawk was happy that all were securely strapped in, and provided with ear defenders, she reported the fact to Scorpion. Some of those aboard found Goshawk to be bossy, but they knew that she had a job to do and everyone followed instructions. After providing Chief with a flight helmet and communications, Goshawk slipped into the left-hand cockpit seat and she swapped over her communications connections before she assisted Scorpion in her preparations.
The engines were still warm, so it was not long before they began to spin and then minutes later, the massive main rotor blades began to rotate along with the tail rotor, the rotor blades gathering speed as the engines increased their scream. The take-off was to be extremely dangerous as they had no idea if there was someone with a surface-to-air missile nearby.
"Chief, have Ajax and Stripe strap in, then close the ramp and the hatches," Scorpion ordered.
Just over a minute later, Chief checked in as he strapped himself into the crew jump seat located at the back of the cockpit. Scorpion and Goshawk then began their procedures for a rapid launch – a procedure both had rehearsed. NIGHTSHADE was not heavily loaded, but the weight of people and fuel put extra strain on the three engines which were about to be redlined for the combat take-off. Goshawk checked the switches for the external lighting, ensuring all were set to OFF. Goshawk increased the three engines to one hundred per cent power and Scorpion applied the power to the rotor blades as she rotated the throttle on her collective, pulling up and then pushing the cyclic forwards, the helicopter dipping at the nose, sharply, lifting into the air, increasing altitude and speed. The sound was deafening for those in the rear and for passers-by on the ground as the monstrous beast lifted into the air before vanishing into the darkness, no one being able to even identify the type of helicopter. As Scorpion kept low over London, turning northeast, Goshawk raised the landing gear as they crested the tall hedge around the cricket ground then went back to monitoring the engine temperatures and pressures, as well as their fuel.
"Overtemp on engine three!" Goshawk announced as a loud beeping sound emanated throughout the cockpit.
"Go to one-ten percent on engine one and two, reduce three to eighty percent," Scorpion directed.
Goshawk did so, pushing two of the engines beyond their normal operating zone and possibly damaging them permanently, but it was a risk they had to take to ensure they were able to escape London safely. Goshawk checked the map on the second screen from the left ahead of her and confirmed their heading.
"Pickup heading two-eight-seven," she directed Scorpion.
"Two-eight-seven," Scorpion acknowledged as she pushed the aircraft to 150-knots.
They had a swift twenty-two-minute flight towards the county of Oxfordshire.
..._...
Less than five minutes into their flight, Goshawk could make out a dark shape closing on their helicopter.
She did not panic, knowing that it was expected, but she was still worried – being attacked and ambushed several times in less than a week was enough to unnerve the average Predator. But the young pilot was much-relieved to see through her NVGs the sinister shape of an Apache AH-64D Longbow attack helicopter forming up on them to port. As Goshawk looked out to starboard, she saw another shape in the darkness. None of the aircraft were displaying lights of any kind beyond small green electro fluorescent strips attached to all three aircraft to aid formation flight in the darkness.
"Nightshade, Nightshade, this is Casper flight of three," there was obviously a third Apache astern of them out of sight, Goshawk figured, "flight path is clear through to Bravo November, enjoy your flight, Casper Zero One out."
Goshawk and Scorpion were very happy to have the escort as their radars were much more superior than their own and could scan the entire horizon from the ground upwards – basically, they were safe from attack.
However, Goshawk grinned as she considered the inevitable result should anyone try to attack NIGHTSHADE that night.
..._...
Sixteen minutes later, NIGHTSHADE approached their laying up point and Scorpion was provided with explicit instructions as they approached an enormous airfield.
Their escort left them at the airfield boundary, moving off to orbit the site for another forty minutes to ensure all was safe – orders had come down from very high up to protect NIGHTSHADE at all costs. Goshawk lowered the undercarriage and the large helicopter settled onto the concrete taxiway before hover taxiing towards a monstrous hanger, following a Land Rover which escorted them right into the monstrously massive aircraft hangar before a marshaller signalled Scorpion to stop and cut engines. Goshawk set the parking brake and shutdown the over stressed engines.
It was still dark in the hanger, but they could see the hanger doors being closed in their mirrors and the moment they were closed, harsh arc lights began to snap on.
..._...
After exiting the helicopter, the tired vigilantes pulled off their masks, glad to be free of the restrictive garments.
As they stepped into the harsh light, uniformed members of 11 Squadron RAF Regiment met them and guided them to where a section of the hanger had been partitioned off. As they pushed through the thick tarpaulin partition, they laid eyes on four large inflatable tents. As they entered the first green tent, there were enormous grins as they smelt and saw hot food being laid out by RAF chefs. Craig and Olivia pushed the younger members forward and ensured that they got fed first. Harper and Electra both opted for steaming plates of shepherd's pie and chips. They grabbed a can of Coke each and then sat down at steel tables arranged around the tent, six chairs per table. They were swiftly joined by Simon, Rylee, and Tanya, each armed with a plate of steak pie and chips with a can of Coke.
Keira and Kate sagged onto chairs next to Rachel, David, Lynn, and Trevor. The two pilots were exhausted, and they dug into their steak pie and chips with gusto. Craig and Olivia went up for seconds, as did Simon and Electra. Mary and Amber were feeling very tired after their hot meal and Cameron pointed that out to Ginny who still had a sore head, but she laughed, nonetheless. Mary kept her hood up, so as not to be identified, not that that was a problem as the girl soon dozed off, head on the table. Less than two hours later, Harper, Electra, and Rylee were not too far behind which indicated that everyone needed sleep. The group were eager for bed and the RAF were not about to disappoint. The next two tents housed sleeping quarters – several four-person rooms equipped with camp beds. The beds were rapidly filled by the sleepy vigilantes, including Eric, Ewan, and Jordan who had spent ninety minutes driving DYNAMO to the airbase.
Everyone felt safe, for the first time in days, knowing that thirty RAF Regiment personnel, including attack dogs, would be on patrol around the hanger throughout the night.
The next morning...
Wednesday, May 31st
07:00 GMT+1 (06:00 GMT May 31st)
Royal Air Force Brize Norton
The giant facility was the largest station of the Royal Air Force and hosted several large tanker and transport aircraft which included the Lockheed C-130 Hercules, the Boeing C-17 Globemaster, the Airbus A400M Atlas, and the Airbus Voyager.
Within the largest hanger on the airfield which was also the largest hanger in the RAF covering five-and-a-half acres of floor space and which was a quarter of a mile long, bodies were stirring and finding their way into the fourth tent which housed toilets and showers. After making use of the toilets, everyone showered, enjoying the hot water and lathering themselves in soap and shampoo. Ewan and Jordan had produced everyone's kit bags from the back of DYNAMO where they had been gathered from the various destroyed Sentinels left scattered around central London the night before. Thus, everyone could dress in clean clothing after enjoying their shower. Ginny, however, had to suffer Mary and Electra. Mary, being naturally inquisitive, just had to be nosy.
"What do you want, Mary?" Ginny asked as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair.
"I've never seen you in the buff before," Mary commented. "You're really beautiful."
Ginny laughed.
"Thank you, Mary."
"I hope I get boobs like those," Electra grinned.
"I wish I had pubes like those," Mary wished.
"Fuck off, both of you!" Ginny laughed.
Both girls ran off giggling.
..._...
Breakfast was enormous and everyone stuffed themselves with bacon, sausages, eggs, baked beans, and toast, not to mention gallons of hot tea.
All were very much awake by the time they had showered and eaten; much happier to finally be safe. They gathered in the galley tent, once the chefs had left, to discuss the turn of events.
"So, we lost the file?" Olivia growled angrily.
"I wouldn't go that far," Jasper grinned. "Amber?"
Amber stepped forward, avoiding Olivia's eyes. She reached in under her blouse and she produced a thick folder.
"You had it?" Olivia blurted out.
Amber nodded.
"You carried it all over London?" Craig wanted to know.
"Yes," Amber replied.
"You trusted her?!" Olivia exclaimed, her annoyance aimed at Jasper.
"What is in that damn file, any how?" Dakota demanded to know.
"All in good time, Dakota," Jasper responded. "However, before the file and its contents become public knowledge, I have a difficult task to perform. Olivia, Jessica, and Christopher, would you come with me. The rest of you, you have a few hours to yourselves. Harper, Rylee, Electra: do not break anything valuable, please."
The three girls in question scowled as everybody laughed.
09:15 GMT+1 (08:15 GMT May 31st)
Jasper was not looking forward to his next task as he, Lynn, and the children entered a secure windowless room deep inside one of the airbase buildings.
"Please sit down, guys," Jasper began.
Once the three children were sitting down, Jasper continued.
"I assume you all remember the events of April, last year?"
There were three nods – they all remembered the events of that night. Jessica rubbed her left shoulder where she still bore the scar from a bullet which had almost destroyed the joint. Olivia was very quick to catch on, unsurprisingly.
"That folder – that's the one they stole when our parents died?"
"Olivia, I meant to tell you..."
"We had a right to know!" Olivia yelled as she jumped to her feet.
Nobody had ever seen the fourteen-year-old Olivia so angry. A year before, an angry Olivia had been nothing more than a storm in a teacup, but now, the girl was a fully-fledged vigilante complete with the proverbial notches in her belt. Olivia could kill with little more than a thought – and she had done so, many times – stomping out a life like it was nothing more than a bug on the rug.
"Sit down, Olivia . . . please?" Jasper suggested calmly.
Olivia was still steaming, but she sat down, nonetheless, and she glared at Jasper.
"I am going to tell you and Jessica the truth. It will be the facts with nothing left out. It will also be hard for the both of you to hear. Do you both understand?"
"Yes," Olivia said.
"Yes," Jessica confirmed.
"Christopher – it is up to you if you stay."
"I'll stay, Dad."
"Okay. Ryan and Sophia Kensington were subjects of an MI5 investigation. I was handling the external MI6 part of the investigation which was looking into allegations that your parents were part of an organisation which appeared to be hellbent on distorting the current world order. They were believed to be in possession of confidential papers stolen from Her Majesty's Government. They were also believed to be in possession of critical information concerning the organisation which was only just being identified. That organisation was much like an iceberg. We only knew about the very tip, above the surface, and nothing about the extent of the organisation below. That organisation is the one behind the deaths of your parents, the disavowing of Vengeance, and the crap going down right now, all around the world, which Fusion and Vengeance are now fighting against."
"Are you saying that our parents were traitors?" Jessica asked.
"Nothing was proven," Jasper admitted quickly as he saw Olivia's expression darken further. "It was all circumstantial. If we had managed to get hold of that file, then we would have had the evidence to turn your parents and protect them. We had no idea that they had already been marked for death as it appeared that they had compiled the file against the wishes of their bosses. I know you both lost your parents and your way of life, but remember, we lost somebody too."
"Charlene," Olivia said quietly.
"Yes."
09:20 GMT+1 (08:20 GMT May 31st)
An officer stepped into the tent being used as a cafeteria and he looked around.
"I'm looking for Goshawk!" he announced loudly.
Goshawk looked up from where she was chatting with Mary and Amber. She saw a man dressed in a flight suit, very similar in pattern to her own which she was wearing at that moment. The three pips denoting a captain of the Army Air Corps were present on the officer's flight suit. The youngster looked over at Keira who simply grinned and tipped her head in the direction of the officer. Goshawk stood and she walked over towards the officer. Her flight suit bore the Vengeance patch which also showed that she carried the callsign Goshawk.
"I understand that you are a helicopter pilot," the man said. "I understand that you are also very bright and highly skilled – according to someone who I respect and trust. That man suggested that you might like a close look at my helicopter."
Goshawk was grinning as she followed the man outside. Her keen eyes had caught the patch on his arm – Apache Longbow. Indeed, her brain almost crashed as they emerged into the sunlight and she found the man walking unerringly straight for one of the most amazing aircraft she had ever laid eyes on. The sleek, forty-nine-foot-long attack helicopter looked simply amazing as it sat on the concrete hard-standing. To the seventeen-year-old, the attack helicopter was both beautiful and ugly at the same time. The deadly thirty-millimetre M230 chain gun fitted beneath the nose added to the overall sex appeal of the deadly attack helicopter. The 662 Squadron AH.1 Apache Longbow belonged to 3 Regiment Army Air Corps and was one of three which had escorted them from London just the previous night.
"She went down for maintenance, last night," the officer explained as they both walked around the aircraft.
Goshawk's eyes took in everything. The nose, with the various sensors, not to mention the gun, was her favourite part. The helicopter was state-of-the-art and combat proven. As she gazed up at the bulbous Longbow radar mounted above the rotor blades, she imagined herself airborne in the flying machine. She was jolted from her dreams as Captain Bill Notch spoke to the teenager.
"I could do with a co-pilot for a check-ride. You have your flight gear handy, Goshawk?"
The captain chuckled as the girl vanished from sight.
..._...
Elsewhere on the flight line, the RAF had opened up one of their eight monstrous C-17A Globemaster III transport aircraft.
"Fuck me!" Dakota exclaimed as she climbed the massive ramp into the cavernous interior of the aircraft and looked around.
"Oh, wow!" Diana confirmed.
"This place is truly voluminous," Rylee stated.
"She means – it's big," Simon translated.
Rylee ignored her friend as they walked, side-by-side, the full 88-foot length of the 18-foot wide cargo bay. Fold-up seats lined both sides of the aircraft leaving a large open space in between. At the forward end, they found a hatch to port which led down steps to the concrete hardstanding on which the giant aircraft sat. Set into the forward bulkhead, from port to starboard, was a lavatory, a small galley, steps up to the cockpit, and then the loadmaster's seat and an emergency exit. The two youngsters nodded to an RAF Flight Sergeant as they started to climb the steps up to the cockpit.
"This is so awesome!" Simon exclaimed as he dropped into the right-hand seat in the cockpit while Rylee took the left-hand seat.
Diana followed a minute later, and she sat down on the seat behind Simon as her eyes scanned the many dials, buttons, and screens which made up the cockpit.
..._...
Back at the Apache, Goshawk was ready for the most amazing flight of her life.
Captain Notch of the Army Air Corps was impressed when he saw the young girl return in her full flight gear, including cotton gloves, flight helmet, and equipment vest. The vest carried her survival gear as well as a small pistol. The officer turned to the helicopter's forward cockpit and he began to point out the foot and hand holds.
"Put your feet here and here. Put your hands here and here. Do not put your feet here, here, or here. Do not grab here or here. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
With dextrous ease, Goshawk climbed up the side of the Apache and she slipped into the front cockpit – not an easy task wearing full flight equipment due to the armour plating installed around the cockpit. As she settled onto the seat, her eyes darted around the tiny cockpit taking in every button, switch, control, and screen. Being the front office for the gunner, as well as having a full set of flight controls, there were many additional controls intended for weapons deployment. Indeed, a sighting device took up the central section of the controls and were in an easy position for the gunner to rest his helmet against to then see out via the FLIR turret mounted on the gunship's nose. An airman assisted her with the multitude of straps which would secure her to her seat. After a short briefing on how, in an emergency, she could jettison the canopy, the airman pointed to where she should connect up the communications built into her flight helmet.
"You online, Goshawk?"
"Yes, sir, er..."
"Call me Picket."
"Picket?"
"Long story. Let's get this beast in the air, shall we?"
"I'm ready."
Goshawk listened to her pilot talking to the tower as the engines began to spool up and the helicopter shook steadily as the rotor blades engaged. The view out of the cockpit was different to any she was used to, not least that the pilot was seated above and behind, rather than beside her. The visibility was very good, and she studied the instruments as they displayed the current status of the various aircraft systems. Then she saw the aircraft marshaller standing ahead of the helicopter wave them backwards and to her surprise, they began to hover-taxi backwards out of the parking bay as if they were in a car! Then she felt the aircraft begin to lift and she grinned as she found herself airborne. The helicopter pivoted, the tail rotor pushing the tail around to point the nose to the southwest. The nose dipped and they accelerated forward, gaining altitude as they did so. Very soon, they were passing the airfield perimeter and turning west. After twenty minutes of flying, the pilot spoke to Goshawk.
"What do you think?"
"Beats a Merlin any day!"
Picket chuckled.
"You fancy a go?"
"What!?"
"I'm told you're a brilliant pilot. Take the cyclic and the collective and get the feel of them. Position your feet on the pedals and feel my input."
Goshawk felt very nervous all of a sudden as she gripped the controls and placed her feet onto the pedals.
"Co-pilot's airplane."
"Co-pilot's airplane," Goshawk repeated as she gently moved the cyclic.
"Way more responsive than the Merlin . . . okay, less input needed on the tail rotor."
Goshawk gently initiated a left-hand turn before she straightened up. Then came a right-hand turn, followed by a change in altitude. Every change improved her sense of control over the eight-tonne attack helicopter. Finally, after fifteen minutes, she felt confident in flying the beast.
"Very good, I am impressed."
"You fitted for Brimstone?" Goshawk asked.
"Why do you say that?" Picket asked curiously.
"You have Brimstone hardware installed."
"You recognise Brimstone hardware?"
"We can hang Brimstone 2 on Nightshade," Goshawk replied, nonchalantly.
"It's not operational on the Apache yet!" Picket exclaimed indignantly.
"We fired off six missiles in a shoot-ex a month ago."
"You guys are really serious about what you do."
"Yes, sir, we are," Goshawk stated as she comfortably orbited the perimeter of RAF Fairford, some nine nautical miles to the southwest of where they had taken off from forty minutes earlier. "My job is to support my colleagues on the ground to the best of my ability. I have to ensure that I can get them on the ground, intact, and that I can provide air support during their time on the ground, before extracting them from a potentially hot landing zone and returning them to safety."
"Well said, Goshawk – that is the mantra of any helicopter pilot. Before I flew the Apache, I flew the Merlin and the Chinook. I had that job, taking troops into harm's way and then getting them back out again. I wanted to be on the supporting end, so I transferred to this little minx."
"She's a beauty – I wish we could have one, but we try to use stealth going in and then getting out."
"Always the best policy," Picket agreed.
The rest of the flight was just heaven as far as Goshawk was concerned. Flying such an amazing helicopter was the culmination of a dream. Part of her felt unhappy when she had to finally give up the controls to her pilot so that they could land. As the tyres of the main landing gear touched down, followed by the tail wheel, Goshawk relished the final seconds of her flight before the engines shut down. Then she had to unstrap and climb out of the Apache.
"Thank you, sir," Goshawk said as she climbed out of the aircraft. "That was truly amazing."
"You are very welcome, Goshawk. Keep up the good work."
A very happy Goshawk made her way back to the hanger, eager to fill in her logbook, pleased to have one-upped Willow and her Seahawk flight.
22:15 GMT+1 (21:15 GMT May 31st)
NIGHTSHADE
RAF Brize Norton
Everyone boarded NIGHTSHADE for their final flight to safety.
The helicopter had been thoroughly inspected and serviced by the expert air mechanics on the base. No significant damage had been detected in the abused engines apart from some minor hydraulic leaks which had been repaired with several key components replaced. Everyone was tired, having had an amazing day exploring the airbase. Though they all wanted to go home to familiar surroundings, they knew that they all needed time to decompress and unwind after their near-death experiences. Their destination was a little over fifty nautical miles to the southwest and once there, they would be safe. Scorpion looked over at her co-pilot who had been grinning non-stop ever since she had returned from her Apache flight. Scorpion was very pleased for Goshawk. The girl's life was turning around, and she was finding her feet as well as where she fitted into the world. The girl had confided to her that she wanted to become an officer in the Royal Navy and fly helicopters for a living. That was something which both women had in common – their love of flying and the sea – and the veteran pilot was going to do everything she could to make the girl's career dream come true.
As they lifted off from RAF Brize Norton, they turned southwest, heading off into the darkness.
23:00 GMT+1 (22:00 GMT May 31st)
MI5 Safehouse
Wiltshire
The helicopter pad appeared out of the darkness, a ring of red luminescence denoting a double circle, one inside the other.
Under the command of Scorpion, NIGHTSHADE settled onto the concrete grid which appeared to be simply grass from overhead, the red luminescence snapped off the very moment the wheels touched the concrete. Once the engines had shutdown, and their passengers had disembarked, Scorpion and Goshawk folded the main rotors and the tail before they closed off the electric and hydraulic systems. They were the last to leave the aircraft by the lowered aft ramp as NIGHTSHADE was swiftly covered up by camouflage netting handled by half a dozen aircraft handlers who had appeared the very moment they had touched down. The two pilots followed the others across some grass, a narrow roadway, and some more grass before they passed over thick gravel leading up to a large wooden double door up three stone steps. They passed into a large hallway bedecked with dark wood floor-to-ceiling panelling on each wall where a tall man was smiling.
"Good evening, all. My name is Honeyduke and I welcome you to Eight Four Two."
"Eight four two?" Dakota asked.
"Safehouse 842," Honeyduke explained. "This is an MI5 Safehouse."
The man was in his mid-sixties and dressed smartly in a casual pair of dark blue slacks, a light blue long-sleeved shirt, and dark brown loafers.
"Now, it is late, and I am sure that you are all keen to get to bed," Honeyduke said as he waved an arm in the direction of a large wooden staircase leading upwards to the next floor. "Follow me, please."
The tired youngsters and adults followed the man up the staircase, lugging their kit with them. At the top of the stairs, they were led across dark oak floors towards several panelled doors, each of which bore a brass number on the dark oak. As they approached, Jasper peeked into each room before he began to reel off names.
"Room 1: Craig, Ewan, Jeremy, and Christopher. Room 2: Olivia, Jessica, Mary, and Electra. Room 3: Keira, Rachel, and Ginny. Room 4: Eric, Cameron, David, and Trevor. Room 5: Jordan and Simon. Room 6: Kate and Dakota. Room 7: Rylee, Tanya, and Harper. Room 8: myself and Lynn. Room 9: Diana and Amber. Get some sleep and NO MUCKING ABOUT!"
With that, everybody pushed open the doors to their rooms where they found beds awaiting them. There was no mucking about as everyone was tired and they all simply stripped off before collapsing onto the beds and slipping under the duvets.
"Thank you, Honeyduke," Jasper said.
"You are safe here, Jasper, as you well know," Honeyduke responded, somewhat cryptically.
"Yes, I do know. Goodnight, Teacher."
The following morning...
Thursday, June 1st
09:40 GMT+1 (08:40 GMT June 1st)
Safehouse 842
Wiltshire
The giant dining hall was very busy as twenty-six very hungry people dug into a cooked breakfast.
The bacon, sausages, fried eggs, mushrooms, baked beans, fried bread – it just all kept coming. There were many happy faces as everyone put away massive helpings of food which also included toast and many gallons of breakfast tea. Even Ginny was able to relax as the security arrayed around the facility was top notch and all, including the Princess were very safe. Indeed, Mary's happiness grew as two men strode into the dining hall as everyone was all but finished.
"Somebody to see you, Your Highness," Electra stated, nodding behind Mary.
Mary bristled to throw back a crude epithet as she hated to be referred to by her title by her friends, but she turned nonetheless. Then her mouth dropped open as she recognised the man in front.
"Daddy!" Mary exploded as she scrambled up from her chair and ran to the Prince.
Prince Robert was almost flattened by his fourteen-year-old daughter as she cannoned into him. The Prince's PPO, Pete Hind, chuckled as Mary grinned happily. Then it was Electra's turn.
"Grandpa!" the ten-year-old yelled as she too scrambled to her feet and ran for the Commander.
"What are you doing here?" Mary exclaimed.
"What she said," Electra added.
"We need to talk about what has been going on," the Prince explained. "A debrief, if you will."
"Okay," the two girls responded in unison.
The Prince walked around for a few moments, saying hello to everyone – Amber all but fainted – while Rachel was simply stunned as was her normally chatterbox of a daughter and both simply muttered back at the Prince. Not that the Prince minded: he was used to how he was treated by amazed members of the public and he was very used to how his own daughter was treated by her friends. They welcomed the Prince to sit down with them and enjoy a slice of toast with marmalade. Mary was quick to introduce all of her friends, including Harper.
"You appear to have made a good recovery," the Prince said.
"She's back to normal which is not good," Mary confirmed.
"Do we need to revisit the puddle, Mary?" Harper growled back.
Prince Robert frowned a little as Mary winced, but he saw Ginny shake her head and smirk. He knew not what punishments his wayward daughter had endured after her return from Chicago, but Mary had been very subdued for a full week afterward and she had refused to talk about it. Indeed, Mary refused to talk in general about what went on at Vengeance which the Prince did not press. His daughter had her secrets to keep and he would respect that.
"No thank you, Harper," Mary responded somewhat stiffly.
Harper laughed while Scarlett scowled – she knew what the reference concerned . . . to a point.
..._...
After breakfast, there was one-to-one time with the Prince, the Commander, and Sergeant Woodward.
Each vigilante was taken into their briefing by Sergeant Hind. The briefing room was old with every wall panelled in dark oak. Comfortable armchairs flanked a stone fireplace – the fire was currently out – while a long solid wood table of dark oak sat with four high backed wooden chairs on one side and a single chair on the other opposing side. All were of the same dark oak. The floor was a thick green carpet which felt squishy as you walked on it. It felt like an interrogation – and was . . . to a point. Each person was encouraged to go through their version of events: what they saw, what they did, what they heard, what they thought, what went wrong, what went right. The first debriefing was at eleven that morning with a break for lunch at one o'clock. Each debriefing took about an hour. The debriefings continued into the afternoon, only stopping at seven o'clock that evening for supper. Everyone was ordered not to discuss events – nobody did as it was total bliss to be able to enjoy the nice weather and the company of their friends in an otherwise perfect environment without worrying about everything they had endured. The facility was secure and set within dozens of acres, all secured.
By the end of that first day, only seven had been through the debriefings which were scheduled to go on for another three days. Nobody was being held to blame for anything – Vengeance had certain immunities to protect them while going about their duties – but there had been mistakes, not to mention the collateral damage relating to a firefight which had spread from eastern London through into the centre near the Government buildings. Men and women had been openly killed on the streets and a helicopter and been blatantly – and very visibly - shot down over the River Thames, not to mention that more than one property had been assaulted by a black helicopter. Covering up such events was not going to be easy and reassuring the general public that London was not under terrorist attack had not been easy. Indeed, every news bulletin had led with full-colour images and video of varying combinations including a car chase, black helicopters, dead bodies on the streets, and images of masked vigilantes both on the streets and beneath them.
The questions sometimes seemed harsh as each version of events was pulled apart by the professional police officers. Commander Haig was not out to make friends, but to get answers, and he knew that he pushed the adults and the children equally hard. He did not hold back as he dug through the reports of Craig, Ewan, Jeremy, Christopher, Olivia, Jessica, and Mary. Indeed, Mary had proved to be the hardest and the girl had been reduced to tears as the Commander and Woodward had worked through her version of events. It had been very difficult for her father to stay on the sidelines, but he had had to, no matter how upset or angry his daughter had become. That evening, Olivia had sat down with Mary and the pair had talked, easing Mary's concerns that she had made mistakes.
For all of the vigilantes, it had been a hard week and the questions were unwelcome, however, all knew that the debriefing had to be accomplished.
The next day...
Friday, June 2nd
10:05 GMT+1 (09:05 GMT June 2nd)
Safehouse 842
Wiltshire
The debriefings continued with Electra being the first that morning.
The debriefing had been slightly different for Electra; the Prince and Sergeant Woodward had questioned while the Commander had remained on the sidelines. The questions were the same for all and recorded by a small audio recorder connected to a microphone which sat on the tabletop before Electra. The questions began easy.
"Your full name, please?" Sergeant Woodward began.
"Electra Isabel Haig."
"Your age?"
"I am ten years old."
"You are a member of the vigilante organisation known as Vengeance?"
"No comment."
"Please, Electra...," Sergeant Woodward said.
"Yes, I am the vigilante known as Rigour."
"Thank you. Please begin with the events of Thursday, May 25th, 2017. You were in London."
Electra closed her eyes for a few moments as she thought back to that fateful night when everything had begun.
"We were tasked to recover a file from a property in central London. We left the safehouse at around 19:30 for a reconnaissance. I joined Crimson and Drift in Hyde Park. Crimson hailed a cab and we were joined by Belle..."
Electra explained on about the mission – at least the mission from her point of view. She laid out the facts and only expressed her own feelings and thoughts when asked. She was a professional and she knew how to separate the facts from her own thoughts and feelings. For Commandeer Haig it was very difficult to see his own granddaughter being grilled and he could see that she was getting upset, much as Mary had the previous evening. However, Electra had controlled her emotions much better, but her expressions had spoken volumes as to how she had really felt. Recounting the events was difficult and certain events Electra hoped to bury. Those events included the stripping of Amber and her humiliation, then the start of their escape as they had run for their lives. She continued talking right up to the moment the man's head had been torn off by the train. Commander Haig had winced at that, knowing all about the headless corpse his men had discovered. Electra had described her defence of Belle outside Parliament and finally her killing of one of the women at Victoria station. As the hour came to an end, Electra barely looked at her grandfather as she had stormed out of the room, straight past the next victim, Keira, with barely a glance.
Keira had entered the room full of foreboding.