Snippet #2367773

They were in the air for no more than half an hour when an alarm—an ominous beep beep beep—began to emanate from somewhere in the helicopter's cockpit.

"Colonel!" The pilot said, immediately gaining the attention of the man who was sitting across from Gabriel.

Without moving any other part of his body, Gabe turned his head to glare at the pilot. Without making a noise, he waited. This didn't sound like good news.

"We have a bogey coming in at angels twenty and descending. Judging from the size and speed, I'd say it's USAF sir."

Gabe stood. "Establish communications," he ordered. "Tell them to get lost."

"Yes, sir." The pilot then began to fidget with a few knobs, handing a headset to the Colonel. The man spoke into the device with the measured controlled tone of a military man. "Attention unknown aircraft, this is Lieutenant Colonel Quartz N-Zero-Eight-One-Nine-Papa-Quebec of the United States Air Force. You are flying dangerously low for such a high speed, son. Identify yourself."

There was no response, save static. The pilot nodded once, and the man—Colonel Quartz—repeated his message.

"I repeat: this is Lieutenant Colonel Quartz N-Zero-Eight-One-Nine-Papa-Quebec of the United States Air Force. Identify yourself."

Static again. Quartz looked back at Gabriel, who did not acknowledge his actions.

"Sir!" The pilot spoke in an unhurried but anxious tone. "The aircraft is closing in on our position, 2km out, angels fifteen and falling." The beeping noise had increased in frequency. "If he doesn't alter his course, he'll drop down right on top of us!" The Colonel took that as his cue to switch tactics.

"Unidentified aircraft, this craft is armed for aerial combat. Throttle back or increase altitude immediately or be considered a hostile," he said, cavalierly adding "we want to see your vapes."

Not waiting for a response this time, Gabe took the initiative. "Prepare to engage," he said flatly.

"Sir," the Colonel began, "something that fast, with that much control. It has to be a military fighter jet. USAF—to be able to make it into United States airspace. If we engage, he'll no doubt send this copter back to the taxpayers, not to mention us—"

"I heard the pilot, slave." Gabe growled. "Prepare to engage."

"Yes, sir!" The colonel turned to the pilots. "Bobby, Dennis, if he keeps on course, jink this fucker." He then turned to his two gunners, who stood up from where they were sitting, white coats swishing elegantly. "You two: fangs out, boys! Looks like we'll be giving this fighter jock a little taste of what we can do." The two white coats took positions at the turrets at each side of the chopper. The pilots began flipping various switches. Sounds could be heard as parts of the helicopter reconfigured themselves—preparing as best they could for a dogfight of sorts against a vastly superior opponent.

Just then, two things happened, almost simultaneously. Firstly, Gabe felt something similar to fear. No, not as in he experienced the emotion himself; quite the contrary, he sensed what he could only describe as a surprise revelation from someone else in the general vicinity. In the helicopter. In order for Gabe to "feel" it with his Phobia—his mental ability—it had to have been intense, bordering on fear. Gabe turned his head towards the perceived source of this disturbance... and his eyes fell almost immediately upon Nirvana. However, before Gabe could fully take in the situation, the pilot of the fighter jet finally decided to radio back.

Contrary to their plans, seems the enemy of the world had come to them instead.