The pilot lulled in his seat. His arm fell lifelessly to one side as the helicopter began to angle into a spin.
“Ryan, sing,” Mick ordered.
He sang a soothing song, placing Mick in a calm state of mind so that he could plot his next move.
“Pat, do something about our descent.”
Ink threaded from Pat’s arms smashing through a porthole either side of the helicopter. The ink threads snapped and billowed into oversized parachutes, slowing their descent somewhat. They crashed through the finer upper canopy of branches, then lurched side on. With his back pressed against the wall he looked up to see three of his superhero members still strapped in and looking down at him.
He glanced beyond them, through a porthole, able to see the tangled stream of parachutes.
“We’re snagged in the trees,” he said. “We were going to abseil down anyway. Best we do that now before Shotgun’s crew work’s out what happened to us. Stay where you are.”
He unbuckled his seat belt and stepped around the side door, now resembling a floor hatch, rather than an exit. Tugging on the release handle, he found it wouldn’t budge.
“I think the lock’s damaged.”
Nick unbuckled his belt and knelt beside Mick. A sharp jab battered the door free, clanging loudly as it struck the ground.
“Okay, let’s move,” said Mick.
He took his sniper rifle from the wall mount and slung it over his shoulder. Latching his personal cable onto a convenient U-bolt, Mick dropped through the exit door and zipped to the ground where he disconnected and ran to a safe distance from the suspended helicopter. Jordan, Ryan, and Nick abseiled to earth. Pat and Glen abseiled to the ground on cables of their own making.
Metal groaned and the helicopter rolled, snapping parachute support lines. Nick reached up to catch the falling aircraft. He buckled at the knees under its sheer weight as the others ducked. His limbs quivered, threatening to give out as the helicopter unraveled and returned as streams of ink to Pat’s arms.
“We’ve only got to follow the noise,” said Mick breaking into a run.
They began with a jog, then faster as firearms repeated. A section of infantry fired ahead. When they sensed the Sensational Six’s presence, they turned with weapons aimed.
Pat waved a shield over his comrades.
“Hold your fire,” called one of the men. “Sir.”
An officer crawled from the group and gestured for the heroes to lower themselves into a crouch.
“Alright, we were told you were coming. Go ahead to the front. I’ll radio ahead. Bear in mind though that not everyone might get the word.”
“Thank you,” said Mick. “Glen, scout ahead.”
Glen nodded, then released his fleas. The glowing mass flew ahead and out of sight. Minutes later, they returned.
Now is – the – perfect – time said the fleas. They’re heavily – engaged – with tanks.
“Right, let’s move,” said Mick, spurring them into a run.
A few hundred metres later, they saw Odin standing face to face with a tank. All but one machine gun barrel appeared bent.