Bang Bang into the Room

The teams on the perimeter took care of a few random Zeds, not one of them any sort of challenge. Without the need for food and water they could roam incredible distances and end up places like the cache without being expected. Expected by normal people, the team was far too experienced and lethal to be surprised by skilled people intent on doing them harm much less mindless zombies. Some chose the knife, others a single shot that made the MSF people jerk but that everyone else took without being more than professionally curious for a moment until it was clear a threat had been eliminated.

Refueling went much smoother with an electric pump that did most of the work before the stored batteries ran out of juice and required muscle to finish the job. Doctor Turner and her team took turns on it, set up in a rotation that she assigned one of the nurses to create and oversee. She did her own stint on it, not nearly as strong or quick as any of the security personnel but she and her team didn't complain. When they weren't doing that they helped move the contents of the cache into the helicopter though several of them quietly refused to touch weapons even to shift them around. The Crew Chief supervised stowing it, drifting in and out of the narcotic induced drowsiness he fought against, determined to make sure his helicopter wasn't going to be unbalanced or have things shift in flight.

This time there wasn't any briefing, no tense stand off to decide where they were going. Safety beckoned, just a short hop away, and everyone was too tired and too ready to have the mission be over. That didn't mean they relaxed or lost their edge; professionals like HMC and the still active duty military personnel pushed past the tired or took turns catnapping in shifts with a buddy who stayed awake. The civilians, feeling safe surrounded by wolves, only kept up one person to keep an eye on the injured and the rest of them nodded off in their seats as the helo went wheels light and then turned its nose towards the distant airport.

With the teamwork they'd displayed looting the cache it would still be dark, nearing dawn, when they arrived.

"I've got them on the radio," Misty called out first on the intercom then louder, a shout to be heard at least a few feet back into the cargo and passenger area. Even with her professional reserve as a too cool for anyone else pilot there was a touch of excitement in her voice. This was no normal mission, this was no normal time in the world, and everyone needed to let go of worry for a bit and trust in the safety someone else offered.

"We're cleared in. No ATC," she announced. "I'm going to put her down a hundred meters off the port side wing of the Herky," a C-130 transport plane, a real workhorse with over two thousand miles of range that could easily get them out of the Middle East. They could reach Rome, though from recent reports nothing was there, and numerous other locations in southern Italy. If they chose to go a bit to the north and east then Bosnia, Serbia, Romania, Greece, Bulgaria, and Macedonia were possibilities. HMC hadn't specified their next destination and presumably the pilots knew it.

Aware this might be the last time she got to fly for - maybe forever - Misty made a wide looping approach, pressing everyone into their seats with mild but exciting for some g-forces.

Reagan, once again pressed into duty as an extra set of eyes, was the first to see the hateful glow of tracers that seemed to float out towards the helicopter. There was barely time for a warning when they stitched the Chinook. A small pickup with a very heavy machine gun mounted on it, what was known a a technical, had popped out from the cover of a nearby hangar and was firing on the helo. Around it, from two sides that formed an L with the plane in the middle of it, armed men ran out and orange muzzle flashes began to lick out at the security forces around the plane.

In the fuselage the bullets punched holes through the thin skin, metallic pops sounding loud and sudden. Some of the tracers slashed bright lines through. Luck, bad or good, had the fire concentrated towards the front where the medical personnel and patients were sitting, ripping into them and painting their insides onto the others and the interior of the helicopter. Screams and the blaring hoots of alarms from inside the cockpit filled the helo with chaos.

In the cockpit it seemed like every warning light that could came on, sirens and buzzers demanding Misty do something about it. The armored windows starred and frosted with impacts from the machine gun, several rounds smashing through. Reagan felt the stings of a few small chunks of debris but nothing serious. As the helo banked, instinctive reaction from Misty to dodge the fire and the need to deal with a wounded bird, the pilot just grunted and fought the controls.

She was good. She knew what to do. That sharp slam in her gut could be ignored for a moment and besides, it made her feel kind of warm.

Misty did her best but without a copilot, without Monk's strength to help on the suddenly hard to handle controls, her best just wasn't good enough.

"Fuck," was the last thing she said a the helo tilted ten meters off the ground and dropped out of the sky, right hand hitting the ground as the rotors chopped themselves and part of the cargo compartment into splinters. The impact was hard, very hard, but not unsurvivable. Everyone had been strapped in and the Crew Chief had made sure things were lashed down.

Chaos and screams, people and machinery both, filled the now on its side helicopter. The machinery began to shut off as fuel and electricity were starved from it by damaged systems. Outside gunfire continued to sound, a full on firefight.

OOC: Let's keep the next set of posts short in time span, please. No more than 10 or 20 seconds. How wounded you are is up to you, I don't expect any of you to be more than bruised up. Misty is dead and about half of the medical team is as well, but not Doctor Turner. The helicopter is on its right side about 150m from the plane last you saw. You know there is a technical with some sort of heavy machine gun, and good enough people manning it to hit a helicopter in the air in the almost dawn, and plenty of armed Bad Guys approaching the C-130 in an L formation, firing as they move. You don't know how big the HMC security force is or who the Bad Guys are.

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