Van der Berg turned out to be a slight man, graying at the temples, the kind of man you'd meet on the street and never think twice about. Almost innocuous in his blandness, an easily dismissed threat, icy blue eyes were his only distinguishing feature. Marella would've dismissed him out of hand, except…shaking her head, she couldn't put her finger on it, but suddenly she knew deep within her soul dismissing him would be a fatal mistake.
"Mrs. Briggs," he greeted her, a faint, cold smile crossing his lips. "At last we meet…your husband has told me so much about you."
"So, where the heck is he?" Roper demanded, throwing a worried look over his shoulder at the sky.
"He'll be here," Seb assured him, praying he was right. Getting in without Airwolf would be almost impossible, and he didn't want to think about what no Airwolf meant where Hawke was concerned.
A screaming howl slammed into his ears. Instantly, both of their gazes were pulled skywards, a relieved smile crinkling the corners of Roper's eyes. "He made it!" he crowed.
"Was there ever any doubt?" Seb retorted, grinning in relief.
Roper shook his head with an amused huff, knowing he wasn't the only one who'd been worried. Turning back to the task at hand, he grabbed hold of the rope dangling from the grappling hook overhead and began hauling himself up and over the wall. Grunting, Seb shouldered his gun and did the same.
Overhead, he could hear the rattle of machine gun fire as it slammed into Airwolf's armor-plated hide as she swooped past. "Better hope they don't catch that tail rotor," Seb panted as he grabbed hold of Roper's hand to drag himself up the last couple feet.
Gripping his hand, the younger pilot hefted him up, blue eyes scanning the sky overhead as he did so. A black streak climbed high sweeping left abruptly, barely missing an incoming rocket. It dropped a sunburst diverting another sidewinder, the shockwave from the explosion shaking the wall beneath his feet.
Throwing his hands up reflexively, Seb ducked. "Too hot for me out here!" he yelled, over the explosion. "Get a move on!"
Jolting into action, Roper loped for the nearby entrance. Feeling hot shrapnel raining down around him, he didn't have to be asked twice. Heavy boots slammed along the concrete walkway as he headed for the door, Seb right behind him.
Reaching the landing, Roper flattened himself against the rough wall. "Well?" he asked the other, eyeing the heavy latch.
"Good a way as any," Seb panted. He started to reach for the pack of C-4 he carried and the electric charge.
Abruptly, Roper's hand swung out, stilling him, motioning him to wait. Back up against the wall, he flattened himself even further as the door suddenly swung open. A single man in military gear strode out radio in hand.
Motioning for silence, Roper slid up behind him, his pack dropping to the ground in the open doorway.
The man spun his gun in hand as he heard the pack hit.
Seb lunged, diving for him even as he raised the gun firing. Nowhere to go, Roper flung himself at the ground.
Shoulder first Seb slammed into the man, the force of his lunge slamming them both to the ground hard. He felt the impact shudder through his body as they both hit, driving the wind out of his lungs.
The man came up swinging, a solid fist creasing him across the jaw. Reeling, he blocked, throwing back a fist of his own. A beefy hand caught it, blocked. Twisting his body, Seb swung another - this one connecting. Catching him solidly in the jaw, the surprised sentry went down.
Adrenaline jolting through his veins, Roper shoved up from the ground near the wall. Wide-eyed and breathing hard, he reached down a hand to haul Seb to his feet as he picked up the sentry's dropped gun.
"Close call," he rasped. "Thanks. I owe you one."
Breathing hard himself, Seb nodded. "Just don't make it a habit."
Roper shook his head. "Not me, man."
Guns in hand they walked through the open doorway, a breath apart.
Tall and solidly built, the man with the cold, grey eyes paced the room. Wide-shouldered and frowning, he eyed the blond-haired man seated before him, his hair starting to streak with grey.
Already, the man showed signs of strain as he fought the hefty dose of Benzodiapine that flowed through his veins. Archangel hadn't gone easily, he mused, thinking of how the spy had fought the mind-altering drug.
Thor might've gained the upper-hand for now, but he didn't kid himself it'd last. The only question was, would he keep it long enough to gain his goal before Michael's determination killed him. Fine lines of strain were already showing in the spy's face, a noticeable tremor in his hands from the high drug dose.
His doctors had already warned him, saying the spy could collapse at any time; the dose bordered on lethal. "Tsk, tsk, Michael," he sighed. "You always did have to make everything so difficult. If you hadn't joined forces with Hawke on that blasted helicopter, that particular problem would've long since been resolved."
Seated, the spy stared straight ahead making no sign that he heard him, his jaw clenched and his one good eye fever bright. Trembling his hands fisted on the table, his whole body bowstring tight.
Sighing in exasperation, Thor scowled eyeing him. No, he'd be lucky if he managed to keep him alive long enough to meet his goal. Damn shame, the man was an exceptional agent; it'd be a pity to lose him. Still, casualties were a fact of war.
"Fine, Michael," he snarled. "Have it your way, but I will win this hand, make no doubt of it. If it takes destroying you, Hawke and Airwolf to do it, so be it. Seething, he strode out of the room, door slamming behind him.
Archangel flinched, the single deep blue eye going wide, pupil dilated 'til it looked almost black. His mind frantically told him to fight, even as it flailed against the confines of his unwilling body. White knuckled, his fingers clenched on the edge of the table fighting for control even as his heart pounded desperately in his throat.
Forehead leaned against her knees and back against the wall, Marella waited. That was all she could do, that and pray for an opportunity. Thor's arrogant presence and lack of subtlety gave evidence to the fact he didn't have any intention of any of them walking out of here. She didn't have to know what he was up to, to understand that.
Closing her eyes, her fingers tightened on the makeshift shiv she held. Who would've thought yesterday, she'd be planning a way to do in her boss and the head of a top secret covert U.S. government agency.
Swooping low over the ground, Airwolf skimmed the tree tops, her easy grace making it look lazy. The reality was anything but. On his own, with no weapons engineer, Hawke was scrambling. Rolling into an Immelman turn, he narrowly avoided the sidewinder aimed in his direction as it exploded into the canyon wall behind him.
Pulling back on the collective with one hand, he hauled back on the cyclic punching the turbos home. G-forces slamming him back into the seat, Airwolf climbed, a sunburst taking out the missile on her tail. Rolling left, chain guns rattled taking out a perimeter defense.
Howling challenge, the sleek black helicopter rolled belly-up, outmaneuvering a sparrow missile, coming down behind it and blasting it out of the sky. Radar screamed in Hawke's ear, warning him of an incoming missile. Banking, he deployed chaff, cutting turbos and praying his guess on the missile was right. Eyes narrowing, he watched it tear past him, seconds before he fired on it. Missile exploding, Airwolf streaked through the resulting flames and debris, smoke and fire curling under her rotors as she did so.
Hawke huffed a relieved breath, fingers flexing on the cyclic. One down, three to go.
Boots slamming down the hallway, Seb and Roper went through the rooms one by one, guns drawn. Room after empty room, frustration mounted, knowing with each passing second their chances of getting caught increased.
"Cover me," Roper ground out, poised to begin the next hall. Seb nodded, blue eyes making contact briefly.
Flinging himself across the doorway, Roper drew in a deep breath before he turned, cautiously reaching for the door handle. Sidling down the wall, Seb provided cover, String's Walther PPK in hand.
"Nothing," Roper exclaimed in disgust, eyeing the commercial refrigeration units and vials littering the tables. "Unless you're a mad scientist, of course."
Seb jerked his head towards the door. "Let's go. We're running out of time."
Overhead, Airwolf's engines screamed, rattling glass beakers beside him. String was here and their time was about gone. The thud of answering cannon fire reverberated in the air around them.
Roper shot a worried look to Seb, even as he charged out the door.
The corridor took a sharp turn to the left, forcing a decision. Stay on the main hallway or take their chances on the lesser used corridor. Seb shrugged, clearly leaving the decision up to Roper.
The younger man heaved an uneasy sigh. "Split up," he ordered. "We've got to check both, and we're out of time."
Seb nodded in agreement, moving off to the right.
Back against the wall, Roper sidled down the corridor. Peering in a small reinforced window in the door, he ascertained the room was empty before moving on to the next. It too was empty. "Great," he muttered. A sound alerted him to movement nearby.
Ducking, he crouched, left hand going out to the floor momentarily for balance. Startled, he snatched his hand back as warm, stickiness slid across his fingertips. Almost instinctively, he brought his fingers to his nose, sniffing. The coppery tang of blood assaulted his nostrils.
"Damn," he muttered, seeing the warm puddle oozing out from beneath the door. Clenching the Beretta in hand, he reached out for the door handle, roughly kicking it open as he stepped into the room weapon in hand.
Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, codename Archangel faced him gun in hand.
"Michael?" he questioned. How the heck, had the spy beaten him in? he wondered, reaching to slide the gun into his waistband. "What're you doing here?"
The spy made no comment, to all intents seemingly frozen.
"Michael?" Roper queried, frowning in puzzlement. "You okay? Michael?"
The weapon he held hit the ground with a dull thud, as Archangel seemingly collapsed in upon himself. Bonelessly, he slumped towards the floor, Roper frantically scrambling to catch him before he hit. "What the…? Michael?" he exclaimed, as he caught him. Grabbing the older man firmly around the waist and slinging his left arm over his shoulder he took the other man's weight. Staggering, he made for the main corridor and Seb. There was no way he could continue the search for Marella on his own.
Seb Hawke silently worked his way down the hall. Another empty room, presented itself, this one with all sorts of high tech looking equipment. Frowning, Seb decided he didn't know what most of it was for, and he didn't think he really wanted to.
Still no Marella though. Where was she? He thought. Turning, he headed back down the corridor.
Impatience making him incautious, he turned the next door handle, finding it gave easily in his hand. Rushing through the door, he abruptly found himself slammed up against the wall a sharp knee to the groin and a shiv against his throat.
Groaning he fought to breathe, pain hazing his thoughts, stunned blue eyes wide as he struggled for air.
Dark brown eyes glared at him, their gaze cold, hard, softening as they recognized him.
"Seb?" she whispered huskily, easing her weight off his throat.
"Marella?" he rasped in disbelief. Hell, this woman had got herself caught? How? Ruefully he rubbed his throat amazed she hadn't crushed his windpipe. If she was the loser of that battle, he sure didn't want to meet the other guy.
"What're you doing here?" she demanded.
"Rescuing you," the younger man gritted. "Leastwise, that's what I thought."
Realizing the makeshift blade was still pressed up against his throat, she eased up. "Sorry about that," she murmured.
"Yeah," he grunted, still none too happy. "I can see that."
Unblinking, she slid the shiv up her sleeve. "Where's Michael?" she asked.
"What do you mean - Michael?" Seb questioned. "He should still be a couple hours behind us."
The café au lait skinned female spy arched an eyebrow at him. "Think again," she murmured. "He's here and so's Thor."
"Thor?" Seb parroted. "What's he doing here?"
Slipping into the hall, Marella cast a cautious glance down the hall. Her tone when she answered was cold. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."
Still trying to catch his breath, Seb stumbled out into the hall behind her.