The rest of the group broke into boisterous laughter. Mick set his hands to his scalp.
“No, leave it on,” said the Yank. “Show him what it looks like.”
Ink streamed from Pat’s sleeve to become a huge ornately framed mirror. As Mick expected, his head looked bulbous as the hair piece was roughly the size of a basketball.
The Yank looked over Mick’s shoulder in his reflection.
“You specialise in illusion, Mick. You are Mr Magnificent; a human intellect of no equal, therefore you must wear this piece to maintain the illusion to your enemies.”
“That makes sense,” Mick admitted.
“Now, we have a car available to take you to Shotgun’s current location.”
“No, it’s better that we make it there ourselves. It’d make for a better entrance. Could you have the GPS location entered in Glen’s phone?”
Mick looked at him incredulously.
“You’ve got to get used to using your field names,” said the Yank.
“Alright then; on Weird Beard’s phone?”
“I’ll have it done immediately.”
He led the way to the rear and pounded on the door. It opened and the stairs lowered, allowing them to leave. The Sensational Six assembled on the road. Pat raised both arms, shooting out two streams of ink, sketching a helicopter large enough to carry them all. They all boarded the huge side door and took their seats along the walls.
“Aren’t you going to fly this thing?” asked Ryan.
Pat shrugged, buckling himself in. “I don’t have to. I’ve drawn a pilot too.”
Mick glanced at the front of the aircraft. The crown of a helmeted head showed just above the top of the pilot’s seat. It shifted minutely, then a hand elevated, turning on ceiling switches. Silently, the helicopter hovered above the ground, gaining altitude. Mick assumed Pat could make it as noisy or as silent as he wanted.
Glen studied his phone and made his way to the front of the helicopter, handing it to the pilot.
“That’s where we’re going,” said Glen.
The pilot nodded, taking the phone and placing it in a blank receptacle among the flight instruments. It merged with the other gauges as if manufactured with the aircraft.
Glen returned to his seat and buckled himself in for the duration of the flight. They flew for less than a half hour when the pilot turned his head.
“We’re there,” he said. “Look out the window and you can see what’s going on.”
Every one of the Sensational Six unbuckled and looked out of the small porthole windows. A battle waged beneath them between a few men against hordes of soldiers accompanied with tanks. Flashes of rifle fire, rockets and tank barrels flared on the ground amongst the densely tree region.
“It might be hard, finding somewhere to land,” said Mick.
“We’ll hover above the trees and abseil down,” said Pat.
“Okay… ” said the pilot as a bullet hole appeared in the cockpit window.
The pilot slumped with a hand over his chest. Mick followed the trajectory, noting it was fired almost across the cockpit. He managed to catch a glimpse of an armoured clad figure, sling a rifle and bound from branch to branch to the ground.
“It’s Javelin,” Mick said.