14. WWG1WGA

WARNING; sensitive content.

The Lady's undercarriage suspension extended as if reaching on tippy toes, gently lifting until her wheels left the deck as part of what was potentially the most important mission in her long and secretive existence.

This was not just personal to the Santini crew or for their greater circle, the ramifications were far, far wider than the Hawke, Santini, Project Guardian or even President Tobias legacies.

Airwolf's rotor blades beat the air as she was set to help usher in the dawn of a whole new world.

Nash and Dale, flew low, and it was unfortunate that they had to come in slow, they had to fly under the radar and track on the western side of the island, staying downwind of the northwesterly breeze to stay out of earshot as much as was possible while on their approach.

Airwolf only took a few minutes to reach the southern head of the small bay where the village was located.

If it hadn't been for The Lady's highly modified FLIR, her crew wouldn't have known that they weren't alone. The hillside they were hiding behind was crawling with troops, scaling its face from the waterline and scouring for every potential escape point and locking them down.

The operation was already in full swing as the SEAL team expertly coordinated with Airwolf's arrival, all strategically lying in wait to pounce at the given moment.

They hovered a few minutes behind the cover of the rocky outcrop to observe the footage that the Dolphin was picking up through Branson and Jo's contact lenses while also keeping an eye out for their order to move.

At the camp, Jo and Branson stayed hidden in the beautifully arranged gardens near to the hall which overlooked the Amphitheater below. They observed those eager to take part in the sick hide and seek sport (that resembled The Hunger Games) settle in the arena, which was only about a hundred yards away. On the surface it looked beautiful with the outer terraces backed by walls of flowers depicting the hanging gardens.

What unfolded looked like a sermon, or more accurately, a satanic ritual complete with all the ridiculous gesturing and worship to their deity led by a hooded figure, images that could only be described as evil were superimposed onto large screens on either side of the altar.

Those not fit enough to attend the physical hunt were not given an out, instead they were expected to partake in the equally entertaining proceedings that were held at the gathering.

The altar was also decorated, but not with the beauty of flowers or elegant drapes.

Carcasses hung. Skinned offerings suspend upside down from hooks like in a butcher shop, draining into bowls below.

Jo couldn't stomach it and buried her head into Bransons chest while he looked on in disgust, soothing her the best he could.

A dozen or so chosen children were led down the aisle. These kids looked older, perhaps close to aging out, everything they were told and everything they saw was to heighten their fear and flight responses.

The hunters were also amped up… but not on the same thing as the children, no, this is what some of them came for, the were in a state of aroused excitement. And as part of the experience, they drank from several challis that the nonparticipants had prepared for them. They offered the red liquid that had drained into the bowls along with night vision goggles for an unfair advantage.

Because…why not.

Branson was reminded of how the pig blood had affected him and Jo and he could only imagine the amplification of this concoction when paired with the mindset of those who drank it.

The older children were set loose, given a head start.

And oh, did they run.

They ran for their lives.

The Hunters became restless as the time ticked by on the screen. Their instinct to satisfy their desires barely able to be contained before the minute was up.

They were like rabid animals.

Jo and Branson were distracted only when they heard someone walking over the gravel path. Younger children arrived in an orderly line flanked by their carers or more accurately keepers, who were dressed for want of a better word… normally. They were in their late teens, early twenties, their eyes cast down - haunted - maybe they were past favorites who'd served well, who'd earned their place as the help.

Jo couldn't decide if they were the lucky ones or not, because leading little girls and little boys all dressed up like Angels to their end of innocence couldn't have been any more redemptive than living through it themselves.

She spotted Angela first, responsibly leading two little ones into the hall.

She was so beautiful.

And gone from sight all too quickly.

With that last child disappearing and the doors shutting behind them, that was the cue.

In the hills that surrounded them the chaos could be heard. First the screams and the manic laughing, some gun fire and then the beat of a chopper.

But it wasn't Airwolf, there was no telltale howl, not yet.

And it wasn't just one helicopter, this was an ambush.

Jo and Branson nodded at one another. They burst through the doors of the hall in a false attempt to alert the assembly.

The children were unnaturally compliant and waited for direction. Their keepers started to panic and clearly weren't equipped to handle this sort of intrusion. Some told the children to hide under the long table like an emergency drill at a school while others gathered up a child and ran.

A scream rang out, Jo turned to see where the piercing noise came from and two young men had apprehended Angela, who hadn't followed the direction of the keepers and tried to bolt.

Branson flew at them, "Get your hands off the girl, she's mine!" he yelled out staying in character.

Jo was shocked how menacing her normally gently dispositioned man could be, it both scared her and reassured her to witness it.

They let go of the girl, "OK man, she's all yours" said one, raising his hands in surrender and they both hightailed it out of there.

Overhead, the helicopters closed in, further adding to the mayhem of the moment. Jo and Branson gathered the girl and, just as quickly as Branson got into character he had softened again, "hey there Angela, I'm Uncle Bran, this is my beautiful wife Jo, do you want to come with us? We knew your grandpa." He said, "His nickname was Archangel," he added, holding out his hand for her to take.

Angela's eyers meet Branson's for but a fleeting second, she nodded, acquiescing easily. Whether that was because her training had kicked in, or because she felt safe didn't matter in that moment. She reached out willingly and then with gunfire in the background, she squealed and jumped into Bransons arms. "I've been waiting for you" she said cryptically, her words muffled into Branson's shoulder.

They crouched down under the long table, along with many of the cowering children just before the hall was invaded by troops.

Outside, the Chinooks had arrived from the 160th Special Ops Airbourne Regiment (SOAR), otherwise known as the Night Stalkers, the troops abseiling from their choppers in droves.

Jo and Branson hadn't known about the raid, so when they were spotted by the solders, they were understandably apprehensive and dropped their act. After an explanation, the men talked into their comms devices and informed that they needed to wait for their ranking officer and until then, they'd be held for processing.

The men knew that there were undercover agents within the complex, they just had to clear it with their Crew Chief after confirming their detainees' details.

Minutes later they were escorted out of the building to await pickup.

Even through the chaos, they didn't feel as though they were in a war zone, everything was running smoothly and in precise coordination.

The Chinooks landed on the beach, awaiting their precious cargo and their newly acquired elite captives.

It was then that the distinctive sound of a different chopper cut through the successive shutdown on the beach.

Her wail was a welcome tone to the ears of those who knew her best.

The clearing between the hall and the tennis and basketball courts was plenty large enough for The Lady to land.

Deploying her landing gear just above treetop height, she gently set down, kicking up a flurry of dust, loose grass and leaves from the surrounding gardens.
Not far behind was a Blackhawk.

Jo and Branson were escorted out to the choppers to meet with the Crew Chief and be reunited with their family.

With almost no time to step from his helicopter Crew Chief, S. Fellows got word that some of the elites had escaped underground via a minor foot tunnel set under the main residence.

His men had been in pursuit but were stopped by a heavy steel bulkhead door they hadn't counted on. It would take time to get through it.

"Do we have an ID on the perps?" Fellows asked, speaking into his mic.

"No Sir." Said the voice of the Warrant Officer, "Not yet but this place gas been set up as the central control building, all the monitors and computers are here, they likely got the heads up the moment we jammed their signals."

"We'll need to sift through what was on there. That'll come later. Have you found any other unaccounted-for tunnels?" Fellows asked, as he approached Branson's sleek black helo and her waiting crew.

"No Sir "

"OK, safe to say these ingrates who bolted are near the top of the food chain, stay on mission and standby for further orders."

"Yes Sir"

Casting another eye over The Lady, he could tell this was not just any executive helicopter, it was unlike anything he'd seen before, it was compound Helo, that was only obvious to someone who lived and breathed rotor wings, those two jet engines built into her body were … interesting.

His memory tweaked.

But there was no time to reminisce about the legends of the past that his father had often talked about.

S. Fellows introduced himself and shook hands with the Airwolf crew.

"Fellows you say?" Nash asked thoughtfully rubbing his chin. What were the chances? He thought to himself. Shaking his head, There are no coincidences, this guy was well read in- he and Project Guardian go back a way.

Fellows nodded, arching his brows in question.

Nash having overheard Fellows last few sentences was already thinking ahead, "You going after them?" he asked hoping to get a little more insight.

Fellows' radio crackled; he held up a finger to pause his chat with Nash.

"Sir, we've reached the main tunnel and just missed the MagLev."

"Shit" Fellows mumbled under his breath and turned his back to talk more privately just as Jo, Branson and Angela arrived by the side of The Lady.

At the same time the side door of the Blackhawk slid open to reveal two very surprising figures who had been waiting for this moment.

Micheal looked frail and it was touch and go to whether he'd been fit enough to join the mission physically. But he wasn't going to miss this for the world and with Marella by his side, he felt like he had gotten his second wind. He should have known she would never give up on him, even though it was Angela's mother, Maxine that had forced him to go underground with her.

Operation Angel Wings was technically being wrapped up, but there was the new development to consider.

While Michael and Marella received the hand off of Jo, Branson and little Angela, Fellows got back to Nash and Dale and filled them on the MagLev.

"There's no way we can track it, and even if we could, there's no way we can catch it."

Nash and Dale looked at each other. Fellows was in his own compartmentalized part of the Military and Project Guardian in another.

They were both informed on a need-to-know basis and as a result Airwolf was still contained within her own royal realm and had always been Top Secret.

The couple smiled at one another and nodded in quite understanding, Nash lent into Fellows giving a nod to Airwolf, "You might not be able to, but we can."