Flying death

Alex hurried to the gym, where the Apache was parked. He quickly climbed up the stairs, two steps at once. A couple of guards jetted after him. He slammed the door shut. Master Rider hurried over to the pilot seat. He started the engine. His shoulder screamed: pain was fire rushing through him.

Alex gave life to the engine. The guards were still firing but he paid no attention to them, the Apache was heavily armored.

He tilted the controls and brought up the machine. He was flying, for the second time today already.

Just then, when he turned back, he saw, with both gleaming eyes: a polished silver box, the box had a rounded edge rectangular glass in the middle, hand grips on the lid and a well-known nuclear symbol on top.

Alex understood what he was up against the very moment. His brain was beginning to formulate a plan.