Ava casually munched on some jerky as she lifted her Nachtfeuer into the air without incident, haven't not eaten since yesterday morning After circling the airfield, waiting for the rest of the squadron, she leveled out next to the Old Fart inside the formation. She took this opportunity to get a good look at everyone's aircraft. Yesterday, she had stayed in the air a bit longer, just to triple check that everything was safe before landing. By the time she had touched down, everyone was too exhausted or busy with repairs to chat with about their aircraft. She smiled warmly as she gazed at each aircraft. They all had their own personality, little details that revealed things about the pilots who flew them.

Her headset came to life after a brief moment of silence. It was her supposed flight lead, Roland, checking in. "This is Falke, I read you Hauptmann and I got a question for you." Ava responded. "Vhere ve going... this, "New Haven". Vhat exactly is this place? It's a supposed paradise in the desert, yes, but vhat makes it so? Not to mention, being zuch a place, it vill attract the unvanted attention of the others, so vhat vill this place be like?" she asked. Not only did Ava know little of this New Haven, but she had never really been anywhere outside of Europe to begin with.

After the work was done on the damages and the paint job was completed along with being refueled and at 100%, Reggie, watching The Iron Jackson, Duchess, Nachtfeuer, and the others taking off, started to take off as well in his Slick Sexy. Smooth as always, he made it off the tarmac with no problem and it seemed that his engine was tuned up as well, hearing the purr of the engine humming. Catching up with the rest and following behind the Iron Jackson at 4 o' clock, Reggie listened to the channel where Roland was making roll call. Hearing the others checking in, Reggie did so as well.

Feeling the calmness in the air and his mood feelin preeeetty good, Reggie spoke in the com as everyone was tuning in, sounding like a quiet storm radio show host. "What's up there, This is ya boy, DJ Reggie 'Sweet N' Spicy' Jenkins, Comin to you live from the Slick Sexy at a high calm airwave altitude, cruisin smoooother than a baby's ass. For all you Ragtag squadron membas out there, This is the candle light dinner hour. With the romance and the lovely evenin to come, we hope to end it with a hard dick and bubblegum. A shout out to my squadron brothas and sistas from different flavas, we did a helluva job workin togetha for the first time and we can only get betta from here on. So...what Imma do fo y'all...is slap one on ya for the calm...smoooooooove ride to our funky destination. This is...DJ Reggie 'Sweet N' Spicy' Jenkins, over and out babay, over aaand out." Reggie tuned a song into his channel

youtube.com/watch?v=WlzY6cWpoMQ

Reggie started to bop his head looking at his comrades in their planes, letting loose a bit while looking at the pic of his parents, kissing his fingers and pressing his fingers on the pic of his parents.

"D'Aramitz, no problems on your three...or starboard."

Alphonse huffed a little as his transmission went off as he tightened his bandages. As usual, he was snapping his head left and right, and at the screen that allowed him to view his rear.

Most of the autopilot was torn off to make way for the refurbishments, so he had to make it a habit to always keep a hand on the stick when he wasn't fully paying attention to turbulence, winds, etc. Granted, once he was at a relatively fast momentum, hurtling through the air with a craft as large as his wasn't too bad, given his momentum and mass. The sheer size had to make him doubt every now and then.

Still, when he was half-awake, he contemplated on Roland's words.

At the very least, Alphonse knew the guy's issues. Roland was far too accustomed to passive roles. And though he might've thought he got over it, he was still shoving the responsibilities onto his team.

But you guys, you won't make the same mistakes we did, you will all be each others Aces, each other's protectors, I can see it in the way you all fight together.

At least he got a few names.

Donnie.

Ajay.

Phillip.

Li.

He wasn't particularly new to the flight scene, but perhaps he could emulate one or the other's tactics, or if he was lucky (considering he hadn't died yet for his crimes, unlike so many others, he felt like a million bucks), Alphonse could track down their legacy in one way or another. Maybe their mechanics, or a witness to their maneuvers. The Sky Warriors used to be a forced to be reckoned with.

It wouldn't be too hard imagining ways to make them once again. It all had to start, though, with finding out what kind of people were the first.

Roland could feel the team was more at ease after a few hours of clean flying, they were all true pilots and Roland knew better than anyone that the feeling of being in the air can raise the spirits of even those who had just been in a tragic attack on the base. Roland smirked to himself as Reggie began flooding the channel with music, and quickly opened up his intercom, trying to keep a straight face.

Knock it off Jenkins, this is a flight channel! and Ava stop chewing that beef jerky so loudly, I might think we are under attack!

Roland turned the intercom off to chuckle to himself and then addressed the team.

Okay Ms Falke, that's a fair question you asked. Basically to keep a lot of years of war history short, the states in america all became independent of each other sometime in the past, and Texas tried to rule the continent with force, and it nearly succeeded until being fought to a stalemate by Canada and parts of mexico. The entire US is either barren, highly dangerous or currenly at war. The state of Nevade is unique as its the only state to repel texas and not invade anywhere else, they have sealed themselves off from the rest of the land and put all their resources into Las Vegas which is now known as New Haven because of how safe and prosperus it is. Basically New Haven is the biggest city in the world that is completely safe, and the Albion Avengers and other independent groups are looking to migrate a large amount of skilled Europeans over to New Haven to expand the city and build a proper safe zone that will hopefully cover the south west which they will use as a starting point to start fixing the world. As you know Ava western Europe is pretty divided at the moments the WEC I mentioned before is rife with infighting and many Europeans particularly in the UK want to get away before a full scale European civil war breaks out, not too different to the infighting that's going on in Japan as Nishizawa will tell you.

****************************************************************************************************************************************
Roland could see the shores of Iceland coming up close, which was good as it was getting fairly dark. The landing lights of the first shore dock were about 20 mins away. They would be flying over land pretty soon. Roland let the crew know to keep an eye out and for Alfonse to decrease altitude and sweep his searchlights for any sea or ground units, friendly or otherwise.

Nishizawa had been running on autopilot for the last few hours. No, really, once she took off from base and was in the air, she let her computer take over as she leaned her seat back and snuggled up with her blanket wrapped around her like she was a corndog. One of the perks of being a Scanner was that you always had the most advanced computer systems and no one said you couldn't reprogram or use it for non military use.

Once again, she smiled through her slumber, back in the Horizon in the Middle of Nowhere with her brother who once again brought a new song to the music box. It was calm and delicate, just like the pair of planes chasing each other around. For hours, the little box played on its own, Nishizawa only wound it up once at the start and it kept playing.

"Hmmm?" Nishizawa woke at the sound of her name over the intercom, "Oh, yis. Nippon is like Sengoku Jidai nao desu. It is all like daimyos and clans infighting for what iz left of Nippon desu."

Whoa, did my voice change in my sleep or something? Nishizawa held her hand to her throat as she righted her seat. Looking around, they were still all over the ocean. It was serene and calm, she guessed that the stormy season hadn't quite reached the Atlantic yet.

"Rorand, iz there anything I shoulu be worried about desu?" Nishizawa flipped off the auto pilot and regained manual flight.

As Alphonse descended from formation, he locked his body up to provide a buffer against the G forces. However light, he disliked rapid descents, and this routine drop was not in the least any more forgiving than the drops he experienced on his way out of Nova Scotia. Anything more, and his bowels might just fail on him. Come to think of it, he flexed after the descent, right?

And did the porridge have milk?

Well, what's more important was that in case Iceland had a change in mind to switch to shitstorm-flak-it-all mode, his team would be far away enough to avoid something like flak by a few seconds in advance.

"I think it'd be a good idea for the rest of you guys to just pull ba-PPPPPPPBBBBBPBPBPBBFFFFFFFFT."

...

Did he mention he was lactose intolerant?

So in the silence of shame, the searchlights went up, and began to pan across the land.

With the voice of command to have the music turned off, Reggie had the expression on the face as if he was a child that didn't want to do chores, homework, nor to go to bed early when told to. He went to turn the music off "Aight aight bossman, just tryna get errbody shit flowin..." as he sat back, paying attention to the information given about New Haven. Being back in the states, Reggie was aware of New Haven but never had the chance to visit there because of the ongoing southern wars. Texas was indeed hell to deal with but Being from Georgia and constantly having problems with Alabama and Florida, their bordering enemies, Reggie and his people had their hands full and never really had a chance to explore until Reggie lost his family, leaving him to travel but not very far.

Hearing that they were getting close to land, Hearing Alphonse fart on the intercom, Reggies couldn't help but say something "WOOOO! sumbody done shit their pants!!! Remind me of my grandma's cobbler! My stomach used to get fucked up eatin that. speakin of food....maaaaaan I wish I had me some good ol' country soul food like my momma and aunties and grandma used to make. I want a bucket of chicken with hot sauce and grape soda....damn.....I want dat kinda food so bad, I got a hard on.....hey....y'all got a favorite food?" he asked everyone that was on the channel.

Reykjavik Aerodrome, 4:22 AM

It was a cold morning, though not cold enough for it to snow, but Jingo didn't let that put a damper on his spirits. He had spent the night asleep under his plane, using a sheet of cardboard as a bed, the "Aerodrome Inn" was full that night, so he had to make do. He was crossing the airfield, hugging his arms close to his chest; as he trod past the front of the Candian Hanger, a sudden gust hit him and he went skittering across the ground. The men and women inside, hanging around their planes and drinking maple syrup burst into laughter and jeers.

This infuriated Jingo.

"Ows'bout ye mynd yer mowts ye little friggers?!" he barked at them, giving the Candians a steadfast look. They all have him a hard look and upon seeing Jingo's hand rest on his pistol, reached for their rifles. It might as well have gotten cold at that moment because a nervous shiver went through him, "Origh! Origh! Oyl scaddle!"

The Newfie backed off and slunk away, much to his own dissatisfaction as he could still hear them laughing behind him. But he decided he'd swollow his pride and avoid reasonless violence.. For now.

Jingo pushed through the doors of the Aerodrome, a cold draft following behind him. The Aerodrome was once Iceland's international airport, built for The World Expo, though no planes landed there as the apocalypse happened soon afterwards; it was left abandoned for a few decades until it was stumbled upon by Norse sailors and it's right of use sold to the Air League.

He sauntered across the large circular room, his footsteps echoing off the domed ceiling until he finally came to a stop. In front of him was an old counter that was clearly once lacquered but had long since lost it's sheen.

"She's spli'in rocks ey, las?" Jingo cooed to the woman behind the counter, making her turn around. He casually plonked himself onto a bar stool and she crossed over to him, putting her elbows on the surface smirking at him.

"Was that sarcasm or have you no balls left to freeze off?"

The woman behind the counter was Poppet, Jingo's Ex and current manager of the last functioning Starbucks on earth.

"Oh, ye know dat dats no' de case." she went red for a moment before glaring at him, she reached forward and pinched his cheek.

"So what will it be, Mr Blowtorch?" She asked, pulling a pen and pad out of her apron.

"Yer finest black coffee and pie."

"Blueberry?"

"You'betcha." As she brewed the coffee and warmed the pie, they chatted amongst themselves. Poppet initially thought that he was making a stop before one of his routine flights to Gebralta but was soon surprised to find that he was invited to join the Sky Warriors. As he sipped on his to-go coffee, she looked at him wide-eyed.

"From Skywayman to Sky Warrior, that's a mighty big change if I do say so myself." Jingo nodded and rose from his seat, "you're still going to visit right?"

"oo' else will I ge' me coffee from?" he leaned over the counter and planted a big kiss on her lips before strolling across the Aerodrome to the exit.

"You know you shouldn't do kiss me!" She cried out behind him.

"Bu' I kno' ye loik'!" he replied over his shoulder.

Somewhere Over The Nord Atlantic, 5:31 AM

Jingo had taken off a tad over an hour ago and he was already settling in for a long flight. He had autopilot on and eating his pie, perusing through a hot rod magazine as he munched on Poppet's dessert. He hadn't taken much of a drink from his coffee, he wanted it to last as long as possible because he didn't know how long he'd be away from Poppet; it pained him to admit it but he felt that he still had something for her or at least thought he felt something for her.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and reached for the knob on his radio, turning the dial to tune in to a decent station, upon finding one he scarfed down the rest of his pie and sang along with the music.

Alfonse's bright yellow search lights flooded the shore of Iceland, completely obliterating the foggy darkness of the night sky. Roland's Iron Jackson decreased altitude as it got closer to the ground to see if there was an open hanger to dock in. There was indeed a small hanger but its lights were off which meant it was closed. This confused Roland as shore-side hangars are supposed to be open 24/7 for passing travellers, something wasn't right....Before Roland had a chance to speculate the intercoms started to flash, someone was trying to communicate with him from the ground.

Flying unit, identify yourselves, why have you come here?

Roland's eyebrow raised, it was strange question for a hangar to be asking.

Roland Shaw of the Sky Warriors, we are a contracted squad on a mission to the US, we mean no aggression, just simply looking to use your hangar, this is the shoreside hangar for Iceland, correct?

There was a long pause on the intercom, Roland was now beginning to become very suspicious, and moved his hand to his Missile targeters, just in case...

You have a bomber with you, are you terrorists, or mercenaries? We don't want your business, leave this air space...

What does our bomber have to do with anything? Alfonse D'Armitz is a contracted pilot just like the rest of us, we have been sent by the Albion Avengers on a pilgrimage to New Haven, we are not guns for hire.

There was another longer pause..

Albion Avengers...Captain Michael Ryan used to work in Iceland, they are a legitimate group.....but we cannot help you Mr Shaw, the Town including the hangar are on lockdown, we are expecting a second attack....

Attack!? you've been attacked, by who?

He... He said hes from Texas, he called himself....Clayton McGraw..I think he was looking for something but he hit our town pretty hard when he entered our airspace, we managed to scare him off but we took heavy losses, we are pretty sure he is coming back for counter attack. The town is terrified, we cannot offer services to anyone.... not until we can be safe from him. I don't need to outright ask it but if you can take care of him, then we will be able to offer you our hangar, free of charge.

Roland was face with a choice, either find ad eliminate Clayton McGraw, a well known terrorist and ex-texan warlord and risk death fighting such a powerful foe, or continue along the coast and spend more precious time trying to find another town which will offer use of their hangar (which will be very difficult at night in a foreign country). Roland turned to his Sky Warriors for a decision.

Well, you heard the hangar manager, what do we do? do we find and take out McGraw or do we move on quietly through the country? Im not against the idea of keeping my nose out of other peoples business, but we are Sky Warriors and we have another pilot joining us from a late invite to help bolster our firepower, he will be joining us any minute, his name is Jingo. So team what do we do?

Roland waited for his team to let him know their votes on what to do.

"Ava stop chewing that beef jerky so loudly, I might think we are under attack!"

"Ja vol Hauptmann, disengaging the enemy, over."

As Ava listened to Roland's explanation, she couldn't help but feel a bit hesitant. "Out of one frying pan I suppose...." she thought to herself, glancing back towards where they had come from. Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she turned on her comms to get her mind off of it. Responding to Reggie, she said, "Well Reggie, it seems stereotypes do die hard with some people. To answer the question...... Pancakes.... Pancakes with a warm mug of beer always bring me to peace after a long mission. Sadly all I have right now is my jerky and the expectations of this.... 'grape soda' awaiting us when we land. Currently weighing options to turn back with that kind of prospect. Now-" but before Ava could continue belittling Reggie's tastes, she was interrupted by hangar on the general comms.

Well, you heard the hangar manager, what do we do? do we find and take out McGraw or do we move on quietly through the country? Im not against the idea of keeping my nose out of other peoples business, but we are Sky Warriors and we have another pilot joining us from a late invite to help bolster our firepower, he will be joining us any minute, his name is Jingo. So team what do we do?

Ava sat silently for a brief moment, thinking. These people were attacked, nearly destroyed, but that didn't mean her group should risk themselves again. "They could be lying right to our faces for all we know... Trying to two vigilantly groups to destroy each other." Ava thought. Sighing, she opened her comms, decision made. "Hauptmann, this is Falke, when it comes to the costs versus the benefits, we're at a loss. They're too many things we do not know about the situation for ourselves, simply going off of what this stranger said. It's really not worth what we would be risking if we decided to support this settlement and even if we do, the rewards will could never make up the costs. At this stage, I believe we should keep going and stay low. Until we have a base of operations to fall back to for repairs and rearmament, we should be avoiding conflicts like this."

In her heart, it was hard for Ava to say this, but she knew it to be true. She only hopped her squadmates would come to the same conclusion.

Alphonse sighed as he popped his knuckles, before looking out and around his cockpit for answers. Here, he had sketches of his daughter. There, he had mildew creeping up on the corner of a window pane.

"Like it or not, if McGraw plans on returning, he'll destroy this base. We leave now, and we won't have a place to come back to. It'll be the same as our base all over again.

And if it's McGraw that personally did this, I think we'd be outgunned. Unless..."

Alphonse leaned forward as he gazed at the night sky. The clouds were a little far; maybe only the rabbit or the Ace would be able to fly fast enough to even call it an ambush. Though, with night approaching, the cold air could drop them just low enough...

"...Roland, would you think the clouds are low and thick enough for an ambush? I don't have any other options, other than personally killing the man himself. If we can't pull off an ambush, I wouldn't mind hijacking a locker. Shouldn't be any different from breaking into a house."

Surprising, really, that so far there's only been anti-air combat. If he only had adjusted for this, the decision wouldn't have been so difficult. Still, the effort was too late. All there was to do was to rationalize the best course of action.

Izzy sighed as she placed her headset back on, having heard the jyst of what the current situation was. She rubbed her hands over her face with a groan and pulled Duchess in tighter with the rest of the team, adjusting speed accordingly. She looked over to Roland's plane, then to her fuel gauge which still read fairly high.

"If I am being completely honest, I think we'd be at the disadvantage in the case that we did stay. While we do have the element of surprise, it won't last long and I don't think we have the fire-power to take him on. I agree with the German, cost to benefit isn't worth it. We could just as easily fly on further to a non-coastal hangar. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say we all still have a fair amount of fuel left?"

She muted her mic after that, flicking the Hold Altitude switch and reclining her seat a bit before shutting her eyes for a moment to rest them. After a minute or two she reached back behind her and pulled out a small flask smelling of whiskey, taking a quick sip before returning it to it's home. She sat up again and disengaged the switch, returning to manual flight mode. She had no interest in risking her life for strangers. It could be a trap for all she knew.

Since coming into the airspace of their supposed destination, Reggie couldn't help but get a little annoyed about another 'road block' that they're having to face now involving this McGraw guy. Leaning forward, turning on his com again to speak "Well shit, personally, we fucked no matter what we do but I ain't lookin to get Slick Sexy fucked up so soon after my shit got shiny but then again, I never back down from a fight. Now that I think about it though, I never wanted to take this motha fuckin route in the first place. So...I'm gonna go with the bitches on this one...and say fuck these n***as and just move on...so there...you got my vote."

Chillin in his seat while pulling out an old magazine called big black asses, switching on his mini light to look at his literature while flying.

Nishizawa remained silent the entire time, meditating in hopes of reaching the Horizon in the Middle of Nowhere once more without avail. She snapped awake and nearly hit her head on the dash as she swatted at the radio. Nishizawa always knew that the original plane which her MSO-6 was based on was a three seated plane but her's only had two seats leaving plenty of room and even letting her lean back her chair in the spacious cockpit and add various bits and bobs.

"Anno... I have tu agree with Germany-chan." Nishizawa, "We du not knowru what we are going upu against, I would suggest we keep on going. Surery we will find another hanga which is less of a dangerous desu."

Taking out a bag of chips and loudly munching on them, she spoke once again, "Germany-chan you should really listen to Rorand. If you eat to loudry then it will zound like the machine gunus."

Oh the irony.

"Oi've go' yooooo, under me skin, Oi've go' yooooo, deep in the 'art of me, so deep in me 'art, th' yer a par' of me, ok've go' yooooo, under me skin." Jingo was having a whale of a time, flying high up above the clouds were the fog was less of an issue, the flight had been relatively uneventful, his radar had picked up faint signatures of a large plain in the area but he chalked it up as being a rather dense rain cloud. He had long since finished his coffee, the cup laying on the cockpit floor among all the other cups and brown paper, take away bags and was missing the warm sensation it gave him. Through his headphones, he heard shredded words through the static, talk of he squinted as he listened, as if doing so would help him hear better.

"Albion Avengers.." he mumbled, "Them be those blokes tha' I'm flying' tooo." Jingo flipped a few switches on his control panel and deactivated auto-piolt, gently touching his control stick forward, the nose angled down and he made a shallow descent through the clouds, bringing him down to where he could see the ocean and a mass of circling planes. He turned on his comms, "Albion Avengers, this is tha' Medicine Stick, I believe I were taasked ti find yous, Oi'll be yer new fixer for the foreseeable future."

He brought the Medicine Stick down to the same plain as the other planes, falling into the circle that they were flying in, "The name's Jingo, incase non'ef ye knooow." Jingo spoke in a thick accent, one that was impossible for some impossible to not laugh at.

The crew had spoken, the pilots seemed to not want to engage Clayton McGraw at the request of the Icelandic town, Roland didn't protest with any real effort, but he deep down really wanted to kill a Texan Warmonger, that desire doesn't just drift away after a major war with the lone star state. Suddenly Jingo Blowtorch swooped into formation with the rest of the crew, keeping a fair distance from the range of any of the Sky Warriors weapons just in case.

Ahoy there Jango, thanks for joining us on such short notice, I'll do the introductions later, but these are the current line up of the sky warriors, I've briefed you on the mission, but I want to stress how important it is that we have a fixer class aircraft with us, and its nice to see another Canadian at my side. I'm sure Alfonse will be cool with that too. Form on my wing sir.

Roland's usual cynical tone lightened to a jolly banter, when sending out his invitations initially with the Albion Avengers he put in a special request for a reserve pilot that would be able to join in time of need. Jingo's appearance would be appreciated. Right after the Witch Doctor plane pulled into formation, Roland noticed another plane speeding up to the coast at a fairly low altitude.....it was the New One! Kerry Thomas had returned from the hangar, with his plane looking very tuned up. Roland had never been so happy to see a texan.

Hey Kerry! Nice to see you back, we were just welcoming a new member of the team, this is Jingo Blowtorch, he's going to be our fixer, keeping us all alive. Make sure he dont get shot at too much eh? And Jango, this is Kerry Thomas, hes a rock hard texan freelance pilot who damn near saved me in our last encounter in Scotland, hes good people. Right lets move.

The Sky Warriors were now in quite an impressive number, all soaring away from the town towards the mountains, ignoring the cursing from the ground forces for not accepting their mission. But they cut the radio feed from the ground and carried on, flying into whatever may face the group on their new path.

After a couple more mins of chatter between the group, a hillside road with a winding set of train tracks came into visbility, just as the path ahead was starting to get a think foggy air.

CHUGGACHUGGACHUGGACHUGGACHUGGACHUGAA....TOOOOOOOOT!

A sound crackled on the intercom...

Train Driver:
Who the fuck are yew? Buncha planes flying out of the town? Yall aint got now icelandic flags on ya, so ya must be freelancers. Whatever, just stay outta my way. I aint got time to fuckin rob yall now.

Roland's ears pricked up as he listened to the foul mouthed driver speak to him, he KNEW that voice but from where? His hand naturally moved towards the Iron Jackson's gun controls ready to fight if needed, but didn't make any attack. Just waiting.

Sky warriors....what do you want to do about this....guy? It's an armored train but It doesn't look that tough, maybe Nishizawa can scan for us? You are all free to act on will.

The train chugged louder as the fog got thicker as they closed in on the mountains.

Alphonse had to laugh when he saw two more planes swooping in, and gave each a salute as they leveled off with the rest of the fleet. It seemed ridiculous to bulk up in such large numbers, but in the scheme of things, it seemed to be alright. More guns meant there would be less of a chance of having a repeat of Albion's base, or Iceland.

Upon seeing the train, though, Alphonse muttered a few curses in jest as he flipped on his radio.

"Might have cargo, considering he doesn't wanna fight. That, or he's in the process of acquiring cargo. Either way, you'll have to put someone into the train if we wanna take whatever's inside it without damaging the goods, unless..."

The rest of the crew could hear him scoff before wheezing in laughter.

"...unless...we took out the train tracks and the engine. That'd be pretty damn sad. It'd derail the trains and hurt the goods somewhat. Only somewhat. Nah, I like the idea of boarding...since this probably ain't the only train around. Just might have to deal with the dark for a bit; I wouldn't be surprised if a tunnel punched through the mountains."

Like Roland, he dipped his guns a little lower to target the train, though he had no intent of actually firing. That would be stupid.

Kerry had spent the next few hours near catatonic, lost in thought, it had been a bunch of words, a few flights, but nothing of real interest. He had managed to repair his plane, it was now preforming at one hundred percent, as usual. He had flown with them all the way, not speaking up and focusing on getting rest and being lazy.

The train driver was just another voice on the intercom.

Not that he cared, it was a train, so he met the question with the same answer as usual.
"*Mildly annoyed grunt.*"

He noticed that the others had pointed their guns downwards, towards the train, for what reason? They weren't actually going to shoot it! He turned on his radio, angrily yelling into it.
"What are you doing? Leave the man be, what are we going to do? Chip his paint? Fly forwards."

With that, he rested into his chair, and focused on flying.

They had been flying for too long and the mountains were too numerous. The Sky Warriors squadrom had spent days flying through the icelandic mountain reigon and they were extremely tired, not mention weary of seeing the same landscape for nearly 72 hours straight. They were able to get small amounts of sleep by resting in their planes on auto pilot, but it was not ideal nor healthy to be doing this for so long. Roland Shaw had to make a decision for his team.

We are going to find some even ground and land these planes, because we havent been able to find a hangar we are running low on fuel, and it this rate we are going to be running on fumes in the middle of nowhere, we need to re-cooperate and make a plan, okay?

And with that the entire team saw it a good idea and began searching for a space of land which was hidden enough to be safe from raiders but still even enough to land all their planes safely. It was Nishizawa and Jango who were able to spot a secluded space in the mountainside next to a river and what seemed to be a very old cabin no less! The wing squadron immediately began landing runs and exited their beloved air craft around the cabin, but then they saw the lights on. There was not only someone in the cabin, but there was a plane parked in a nearby cave, which was hidden from birds eye view, the Sky Warriors were not alone....

Who was in the Cabin and who did the plane belong to?

Roland looked back on his team, the wind was cold and howling, Roland's own back was killing him, even walking the few feet towards the cabin was painful after being in a seated position for almost 3 days. Some of his team were having trouble walking, particularly Alfonse who looked like he could collapse at any minuite, he was being held up by Kerry and Jango While Nishizawa and Ava were supporting the very fatigued Izabelle. Reggie was able to walk by himself, shivering and cursing under his breath as he walked.

Roland nodded to Reggie and both men drew their side arms, they were both military men and had a level of expertise with the pistol. Roland lead the way and Reggie covered him to the door as the 'Dynamo' knocked loudly.

Hello? Is anyone in there? I'm Roland Shaw with the Sky Warriors, weve been sent on an important mission by the Albion Avengers, we seek shelter, if you could please help us, we have a few supplies we would be willing to share.

The floorboards began to make low thudding noises as whoever was in the cabin began to walk to the door. Just by the audible thump, Roland and Reggie could tell this was a larger man, at least 200 lbs, they both gripped their pistols by their side, not knowing what to expect....