AIRWOLF™ is a Trademark of and licensed to NBC Universal Television Studios © 1984. This fiction story in no way intends to infringe upon the Copyrights and Trademark held by Belisarius Productions or NBC Universal Television Studios. I just like to play with the characters.
A note from the Author:
This is the third story in my Airwolf FF series, The Lady.
You will need to read my first two stories, "The Lady" and "The SEXII Lady" to get the most out of this one as there are a lot of plot, years and miles between the original 1980's series and what I have created for the 2020's.
For hard core fans, hopefully I have done Airwolf justice by bringing her up to date while still keeping her character authentic.
But you'll have to read to find out.
Please note that updates will be slow for this one as I am in the middle of publishing some of my original work.
Prologue
Archangel
Who was Archangel really?
After almost forty years, Michael Coldsmith Briggs…. the third was just as much a mystery to the Santini Crew in life as he was right from the moment they learned of his death.
And it had been almost three years since they'd heard a peep from anyone at Project Guardian, made even more surprising by the failed expectations to receive some sort of contact during the election.
Their lives had somewhat returned to normal in the grand scheme of things until they received an invitation to a private funeral service in the secret underground of Superior Securities to celebrate what little they knew of the enigmatic man.
But there was one thing he was very well known for.
He had an incredible capacity to surprise.
Descending via the elevator, deep into the underground of Van Nuys, the energy changed as soon at the doors slid open and the group set eyes upon the lone figure in the room.
Marella was sitting front row and center, her head bowed and back to the incoming guests.
On the stage and in front of the wall full of monitors sat a large white casket on a wheeled trolly.
The scene set a somber tone.
Slowly and quietly, Cait and Saint John , Nash, Dale, Le and then finally Jo and Branson made their way further down the decent of the theatre-like Intelligence Centre.
Not much had changed since they had last visited except maybe a few upgrades to the hardware Le noted to himself.
Marella looked up just as the group came into her periphery.
Her eyes were puffy and glassy as was to be expected.
The usual condolences were exchanged before they all sat down, flanking Marella in solidarity.
Waiting patiently for what was to come next, it was hard to ignore the elaborate box topped with white flowers and Archangel's signature Fedora.