UH-60 Black Hawk "Ranger One," headed east over Berkshire

Aside from IP-77, none of the Deepstar crew had ever been on a helicopter before…and this was anything but a typical ride. The choppers were traveling extremely low and extremely fast, doing their best to stay below enemy radar; this close to the ground, their speed was frighteningly evident. Miles of green countryside whisked past below…and then they saw it. 77 stood up involuntarily to get a better look through the forward windshield, staring at the immense forest of steel and glass spires which reached toward the heavens ahead. "Is that…"

"Yep," the co-pilot said. "London. Largest city in the world. You boys never seen it before?"

77 silently shook his head; he had seen one version of London, but this certainly was not it. "Here we go," Carver said into his radio. "Do we have any unsecured communications?"

"No, sir," a voice came back from the other end. "Enemy is deaf and dumb…only thing they have is shortwave. Good luck coordinating air defenses with that."

"All the same, let's make this quick. All units engage; regroup at the Tower."

"Copy."

As the choppers passed over the London suburbs, several jets dropped into view ahead…101 dimly recognized F-23 Lightning strike fighters, their dark wings emblazoned with the white fist. They swung to the left, crossing in front of the helicopters, and then suddenly climbed. But even as the buildings rose in height, the helicopters did not pull up. Dead ahead loomed a canyon of glass, and the Black Hawk's pilot steered straight into it. The two Resistance soldiers seated on either side of Carver stood and opened the aircraft's side doors, each of them swinging a .50-caliber machinegun out from its stowage position. The noise of the helicopter's engine and the rushing air instantly rose by several volumes, rendering speech impossible without a headset. The street below was pure chaos, civilians abandoning cars as they ran for cover…weapons thundered intermittently in the distance, but it was impossible to know who was firing and at what.

Then things started to happen very quickly. The pilot yelled something which none of the Oompa-Loompas could hear over the rush of air, and the Black Hawk suddenly climbed as two more helicopters appeared between the buildings ahead…but these were definitely not Resistance. Both opened up with machineguns, the Resistance choppers evading however possible in the limited space; the Black Hawk tipped hard onto its left side, and the passengers grabbed at their restraints. IP-101 looked out the right side of the aircraft to see nothing but the solid wall of a building…it seemed to be no more than a few inches from the tips of the rotors, and for a brief instant he was certain they were about to crash. But then the Black Hawk dove hard and dodged to the left, circling around another skyscraper…the two enemy gunships had been engaged by three Resistance aircraft, and then the dueling helicopters disappeared from sight. The helicopter swung back around, dropped, and rounded another building…the dense cityscape opened ahead, and another immense structure came into view.

Far from being sleek and modern, however, this building was a single vast monolith of concrete, completely unadorned save for the huge symbol of the winged sword chiseled into each face. This, surely, was the Tower of London. The huge building occupied the center of a circular compound…the Resistance jets seen earlier now screamed overhead, and the courtyard erupted in massive explosions. Another round of munitions struck the top of the tower, obliterating most of the anti-air guns, and Resistance helicopters now moved in. Several gunships swept past the Black Hawk, diving in to strafe surviving troops in the courtyard…both door gunners blazed away as the pilot swung low and to the right, circling the building. The Deepstar crewmen received a brief vision of something moving in the courtyard, a huge machine stomping about on four crab-like legs as it exchanged fire with a Resistance gunship…then the Black Hawk started to climb straight up along the vertical face of the Tower, and the walker disappeared from view.

The descent slowed as the aircraft came even with the Tower's flat roof, revealing the expanse of eight enormous helipads…and the smoldering ruins of at least a dozen gun turrets. Carver and one of the door gunners both drew weapons and leapt out of the Black Hawk onto the flat expanse of the nearest ruined helipad; 77 and 101 looked at each other and started to follow. 77 paused and looked back at the Doctor and 48. "You two stay here! Jonesy, stay with them!" The two civilians nodded; Jonesy looked as if he was about to say something, but 77 had already turned and exited the chopper. The moment the two Oompa-Loompas were clear, the Black Hawk lifted back into the air and moved a safe distance away from the building. The two pilots stayed behind Carver, following the rebel officer's lead. They quickly found themselves in a firefight. Black-armored troops streamed out onto the roof from countless doorways; no matter how many fell, more seemed to pour out from the Tower. The rebels dropped down off the helipads into the maze which covered the top of the tower, a combination of wreckage from the bombardment and various environmental control systems. Bullets whipped over the Oompa-Loompas' heads, at lethal height for a human…Resistance fighters took position behind whatever cover was available and shot back. Fires still burned here and there from the rebel munitions, clouding the battle area; neither of the Wonka pilots could see anything, and so tried only to keep track of each other and Carver. The officer was crouched behind an air conditioning unit ahead, yelling orders; 77 and 101 ducked under a conduit and moved up to join him. Suddenly, a man in a black uniform and red beret appeared from behind a section of ruined girder and took aim at the two tiny figures…there was no time to think, only react.

101 raised his submachine gun, his eye automatically aligning itself with the sights…his finger tightened on the trigger, and a neat four-round burst stitched itself up the man's torso. The enemy solider dropped to the ground, and 101 smiled grimly: Well, I'm definitely part of the Resistance now.

London, the Tower, Cellblock A

As the building continued to shake, SC-80 looked sideways at General Bucket. "You knew they were coming?"

"I suspected," the General said with a grin. "Despite my shortcomings, they're rather fond of me." There was a jarring impact, the lights flickered, and Bucket looked up toward the ceiling in alarm. "I could be wrong, but I think they're actually bombing us." The shaking continued for several more minutes before it died down, and then a faint sound reverberated from somewhere above, almost muted by the thick concrete walls: gunshots. The General and the Captain could do nothing but wait, the potential anticipation of release combining itself with the dread of hearing the doors to the cellblock open. They'll come in here and shoot Bucket before they let him escape, SC-80 thought, and they'll probably do me offhand while they're at it. But there was nothing that either of them could do…the cells offered no cover, and there was certainly no place to hide.

When the energy bars suddenly vanished, it took SC-80 a moment to realize what had happened. There was no concussion or other indicator of damage to the building's systems; suddenly the background hum just stopped, and SC-80 glanced over at General Bucket. He had been staring between the bars, so he did not actually realize they were gone until he looked over at the entrance to the General's cell…he watched with shock as a wondering Bucket quickly stepped out into the corridor, shrugged, and then gestured for him to follow. It was then that the Captain finally realized the bars over his own cell had vanished and, feeling extraordinarily foolish, he joined the General in the corridor. "Well," Bucket said, "I guess…" At that moment, a door hissed open, and two voices spoke through the guttural filter of gas masks.

"…can't let the son of a bitch get out of here. You take care of the little one…I've got Bucket."

Instantly, the General retreated back into his cell, taking position just behind the corner where the cell wall met the corridor…SC-80 sprinted across the hallway and took position behind the larger man. One of the guards swore, obviously seeing the deactivated security fields, and there was the unmistakable sound of pistols being drawn from their holsters. The footsteps of the two men slowly drew nearer. The first man came into view on the far side of the corridor, his head turned away from the General as he looked into the Captain's empty cell. If he had turned at that exact moment, he could have shot both the Captain and the General dead where they stood, but his pause lasted just long enough for the second guard to appear around the corner. His gun was already in position, but that did not last long as Bucket sprang forward and shoved the man's arms to the left, knocking the guard off balance. Bucket stepped in, smashed the toe of his boot into the man's groin, and then seized hold of both the guard's pistol and his hands. Yanking the weapon up while still holding tight to its owner, Bucket shot the guard opposite before kicking his current target away, neatly disarming him in the process. The surviving guard started to stagger upright, but Bucket did not give him a chance to recover…one round struck the enemy in the throat, two more went under the lower edge of his Kevlar vest, and the man collapsed in a bloody heap. The General instantly began pulling off the guard's equipment and uniform, rapidly disguising himself and hiding his face behind the soldier's mask. He glanced significantly at the other enemy. "His pistol might be a bit heavy for you, but it's better than nothing." The Captain nodded and took the weapon from the other dead man; it was indeed unwieldy, but at least he was armed. "Stay behind me," General Bucket said, and headed for the cellblock's exit.

Pistol out, Bucket advanced down a series of hallways, SC-80 doing his best to stay out of sight behind the General's legs. It was not cowardice, but rather prudence…Bucket simply looked like a prison guard, but it was rather difficult to explain his accompaniment by an armed Oompa-Loompa. Bucket stopped cold as a group of enemy soldiers charged past at an intersecting hallway ahead, none of them sparing more than a glance in his direction; the moment it was clear, he continued down the hall ahead and into another cellblock. "This is interesting," the General muttered, gesturing with his gun…every cell door was open.

"We might be wise to expedite our escape," SC-80 said nervously. "If there are now violent criminals loose in the building on top of everything else."

"Tower of London's all political prisoners," Bucket replied, "too prestigious for average felons. All the same, this uniform might be a bad choice of apparel if we run into anyone…" Ironically, it was at that exact moment that they did, in fact, run into someone. A dozen figures in dark green kicked open the door just ahead, weapons raised as they swept into the room; before they even had a chance to speak, Bucket had dropped his pistol and had his hands raised above his head. SC-80 stepped out from behind the General, hoping that if these were in fact friends, his presence might help keep the rebels from firing on their own leader. The Resistance fighter in the lead aimed his weapon at Bucket and managed "Drop your…" before he realized that Bucket had already disarmed himself. His eyes snapped down to the Captain, who quickly dropped his own pistol. "This man a prisoner?"

The Captain stood, wondering why Bucket did not answer, and then he realized that the soldier had been addressing him. "Hardly," SC-80 said. "General, if you please."

Bucket slowly reached one hand down and pulled off his gas mask. Instantly, the soldiers' weapons dropped, and they snapped into crisp salute. "General, sir! My apologies, sir!" the leader said.

"No need," Bucket replied. "Let's get out of here."

Two new figures stepped into the cellblock behind the other Resistance fighters, and the Captain grinned. "Sir!" IP-101 said, his voice expressing nothing but relief as he and 77 both rushed forward. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, thanks in large part to this man," SC-80 said. "Boys, this is General Bucket." Both Oompa-Loompas nodded to the General, and then 77 shot the Captain a questioning look. 80 nodded. "Yes…he's related to Charlie. I'll explain en route."

"Brought this for you, sir," 77 said, reaching behind himself and drawing out a Loompa-scale Beretta 92. Relieved, the Captain threw the guard's oversized pistol aside. General Bucket was hurried into the center of the Resistance formation, men covering him on all sides; their primary target secure, the rebels now began to withdraw from the building. Carver met Bucket at the end of the next corridor, his features splitting into a broad smile as he spoke into his radio.

"All units, the General is secure. We're pulling out."