Above the flowing waves of the wide Atlantic Ocean, Union members Vagabond and the magical magician, Cadabra, who also went by the name of Julia Wesley, were flying high in the American Airlines to reach their destination back in the familiar United States.
"I just don' believe that they couldn't get us our own private jet," Vagabond complained to Cadabra in his western, aggravated tone. Julia, who sported a dress shirt and small, black tuxedo-like skirt and magician top hat, replied, "You know that the Union's pilots are busy. Besides, we're running short on air pilots, that's why you need to get a move on in your flying lessons..."
"I'd be as willing as any other experienced pilot to fly one of those jets..." He squarely talked back. Cadabra shrugged. "It seems to me that the Union made the right choice, with you crashing the last jet they handed to you..."
"They coulda at least got us first class tickets..." Vagabond furtherly complained. "Just be happy you're getting out of that barren Sahara desert. I saw you choking for water every turn we went trying to subdue the Sphinx Master," Cadabra replied.
"Hey, I live in the west, my throat was just overly parched because of all them camels... drinkin' up all that water." He tried to sway. Cadabra raised her eyebrow. "Camels? What do they have to do with anything? Don't be in such De-Nile..." she laughingly joked.
"Ah, smash it. Just lemme get some rest... I heard they be importing special-type robotics or summat to use as pilots anyway. Seems dangerous, but anythin's better than these here coach pilla's. Not even enough legroom for me to put ma' spurs." As these words were uttered, Vagabond carefully tried to adjust himself to reach maximum comfortability, which was quite difficult to do. He then fell asleep.
Cadabra had picked up a daily newspaper and began to read. "New Experimental Air Jet Tests Cause Massive Panic... That's not good," she read. "It says that the jet engine is computer-simulated to obey the controller's every command. Hmm, seems like machines aren't built like they used to. Whatever happened to the simple calculator? It's nothing a flick of the wand and an "Abra Cadabra" can't handle," she said with glee, swaying her wand, which magically made appear a glass of water. She took a gulp.
Soon, however, a young, beautiful dark-haired stewardess came by with a cart of afternoon meals. "Would you like the chicken or the fish, ma'am?" She kindly asked. Julia eyed her choices vividly. "On second thought, I'm not very hungry right, now. Thank you, though," she said. The stewardess put the two trays she was holding back on the cart. "Ah, miss," She beckoned once more. "Shall I wake the gentleman up for his meal?" She asked. Cadabra looked to her side, and witnessed the drooling specimen in deep slumber. "No, I think he'd get cranky if we woke him up right away." She said.
As hours drifted, she too fell asleep, and as they both dwelt in unconsciousness, a rumbling overtook the airpane.
The New Justice Union#6 - Air America
"Glad to be back in service," Warhead said to his chief officer, widely massed Glenn Probst. "This is a serious mission, now, Harris," he warned. "This is a highly-armed, computer simulated aircraft unit which somehow developed it's own thinking process. It's on the rampage right now, trying to destruct anything in it's path. So far it has crossed over nine-countries, dropping devastating missiles and bombs in its wake," he said.
"Well why not wait til the fuel runs out?" Warhead asked. Glenn rubbed his chin. "This machine's got a highly processed fueling system. It was meant to run with consuming as little fuel as possible. It could take days until it ends. And if we stop it now, we could save lives..."
"That sure was smart..." he whispered. "Alright, Cap'n I'm on my way. All I need is an aircraft..." He said.
"No problem there. You'll be usin' one of my old favorites... the F-15 Eagle tactical fighter jet. Though they'll be seein less action once the F-22 Raptors are in full swing, I've seen most of my days in these babies. Yes sirree top speed Mach 2.5, 1,650 mph, sporting an M61 Vulcan, 20 mm Gatling Gun with about 940 rounds, four AIM-7F missiles, and a capability of holding more than a variety of different bombs than you can shake a nuclear stick at," he boasted.
Warhead's eyes shined at the massive metallic artifiact that lay before him, as he revelled in the days of his past remembrances of being a proud member of the Air Force. "I'll be glad to take it for a spin..." He said with triumph. And he loaded in, giving a thumbs up, and took off into the skies.
Meanwhile, back at the commercial aircraft, a blaring blast of a stewardess' voice on the intercom awoke both Vagabond and Cadabra. "Attention passengers, please buckle your seatbelts. There will be slight turbulence ahead..." she said. "Now why in tarnation would you interrupt ma' nap?!" Vagabond bellowed. "Cool it," Julia replied. "You gotta buckle up..."
"Where's my lunch? I should at least get sumthin' ta' eat..." Thomas inquired. "I passed it up..." Julia informed him. "You were asleep!"
"You went and dun what!?" Vagabond yelled. "Everyone know's a cowboy's got ta' have his fillin's fer the day..." he said. He tipped his hat forward to shut his eyes for sleep once more. But something took him by the arm. "Thomas, look!" Julia cried. As one of the Stewardess' began dragging what seemed to be an ailing passenger with soaked skin through the aisle. The intercom voiced again. "Please keep your seats, everyone. There has just been a slight... inconvenience with the food..." it said. "This doesn't look good..." Vagabond said. "Now I'm dun glad I passed up that dinner..."
But soon, the turbulence began, as both heroes held on to their seat as the plane vibrated and bumped along a rupturing path. "Well that warn't too bad..." Vagabond said relievingly. "I guess I kin go and get me some sleep agin..." But as he dozed off to sleep once more, he was startled into a fastidious forward motion, as he barely escaped striking his head against the chair in front of them. Screams shouted in panic as the plane went into a nose dive once, and Vagabond struggled to maintain his composure.
"This ain't no walk in the park I reckon..." he deduced. "We... gotta find out what's going on!" Cadabra said. The stewardess came upon the intercom again, as the plane finally calmed down to a slow, steady pace, with slight, sporradic maneuvers here and there. "Please be seated, we are continuing to receive rapid instances of slight turbulence..."
"You call that slight!?" Vagabond wondered in ludicrousness. "You been through an asteroid field er somethin?" More persons were being dragged to the back into economy class, and as Julia began looking around, more people had passed out from unknown illness.
A stewardess dragging a man in a pilot's suit came rushing backward, and Vagabond caught her arm. "'Scuse me miss, but do ya mind tellin' me ... what in TARNATION is goin' on here!?"
"Relax, everything will be okay sir," she tried to calm him. "Ok my keister! Somethin's goin on here. Now I'm official Justice Union personnel. Tell me what's goin' down!" He demanded.
"Ok, but you must keep everyone calm. Business class has been plagued with some sort of mustard gas or mace. To make matters worse, everyone whose eaten the food here has been suffering from symptoms of food poisoning," she frantically explained. Thomas looked around to only see a handful of people who were alert and wondering what was going on. "The plan also has appeared to have been hijacked. Someone got to the cockpit door once, but was unable to open it."
"That does it...!" Thomas concluded, unbuckling himself. "What are you doing?" The stewardess asked, trying to hide her panic. "I gots to set things straight with these daggum whatsits... Thar's one thing those dang hijackers didn't expect to come on this flight. And that'd be me..."
"But sir, it's too dangerous..." She said. Vagabond lowered his eyes. "Don't you remember? These daggers could be slicing themselves up along with ya'll. We don' want them blowing themselves ta bits..."
"But Vagabond, you don't have your guns with you," Cadabra said. Vagabond pounded his fist against his hand. "I guess I'll hafta deal with 'em... the hard way" he said. "I'll go with you..." Cadabra said. She unbuckled as well and they trudged through the curtain to business class.
Back in another part of the sky... "Alright, Eagle-1 to Eagle-3, I have the Invader in my sights..."
"Daggone it! It just dropped a bomb over Southern Cali... We better take hold of it quick..." Warhead exclaimed. "I'm gonna maneuver behind, you watch my back..." He continued.
His F-15 Eagle smoothly glided through the clouds speeding in its course until it was locked behind the Invader. "Alright, I'm locked on..." Warhead said. "You may fire when ready, grizzly," A muffled, radio voice transmitted from the ground. "Yes sir Cap'n Probst..." and he was just about ready to push the triggers atop the handlebar... when suddenly a backwards missile was aimed his way. A red alert sounded as Warhead struggled to maneuver and avoid the blast. "Dang... I haven't used these babies in a long while," he said, after looking behind him and escaping the projectile.
And they continued to fight in flight... |
