Pentalements [COMPLETED]

Chapter Four

"Are you telling me that this boy, an eighteen-year-old, single-handedly killed six agents, Agent Henry Linden himself and, hijacking a Chinook, destroyed two F-16s?" thundered Admiral Shawn Treader, the Head of FBI Black Operations.

"Y-Yes sir." stammered the agent. He had never seen the admiral in such fury.

"Dammit!" the Admiral swore.

"B-but, sir? Before the last F-16 was destroyed, one of the pilots sent in a distress call. The technicians find it very interesting." The agent reported.

"How interesting can that be?" the admiral growled.

"You'd better listen to it yourself, sir." The man handed the admiral a tape that contained the distress call. Grabbing it, the admiral loaded the tape and pressed play.

'Foxtrot to Mission Control, target is currently in sight, asking for permission to engage. Over.'

'Mission Control to Foxtrot, Operation Cleanup is a go.'

'Foxtrot reporting, the target...what the hell is happening?!" There was a brief static.

'Mayday! Mayday! The missile I fired just did a 360 and flew back at me. Evasive maneuvers employed and executed perfectly. New boogie spotted atop Chinook, looks like a girl. I suspect she's the one who deflected the missiles. Need backup. Over.'

The admiral's eyes became wide.

"Foxtrot reporting, target has now been severely damaged after repeated collisions. Chinook's rotor blades are out of commission. Permission to engage with machine gun instead.

"Permission granted, but be careful of the deflector you mentioned, over."

"Roger that. Engaging-" Static.

Admiral Shawn Treader's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets after hearing the tape. Wiping away the beads of perspiration on his forehead, he glanced up, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

"Ring up Team 6," he commanded. "We've got a double surprise right here at Miami."

***

Nathan was overjoyed. He had finally found another Element, another one of his kind. Two of the original five, now reunited on a rooftop right here at his home town, Miami.

He rushed over to embrace her, millions of questions rushing into his mind. But before he could reach her, his knees buckled and he sunk to the ground. A wave of lethargy overwhelmed him, clouding his senses.

Angelina was beside him in a flash, holding him steady and not letting him crash head-first into the concrete. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed.

Glancing down, he could see that she was right. Blood was seeping steadily in his dark tee, creating a dark blotch of burgundy. It was the knife wound the pilot had inflicted upon his abdomen.

"Oh." He mumbled stupidly. As the adrenaline faded, he started to feel the pain. It was a dull throbbing that was accompanied by the ache radiating from the nick on his toe.

"Lie down," she instructed. Too exhausted to care, he slumped to the ground, exhaling in pleasure. Angelina took off his tee, tearing a small, dry part off and folded it into a rectangle wide enough to cover his wound. Then, she dabbed his wound carefully, causing Nathan to wince. Placing the direct pressure on top of his wound, she retrieved a bandage from her side pocket and started bandaging the wound.