Previously, in the preceding chapter: Lucas and his team of teenage girls successfully rescued a group of exploited men from the clutches of the Siren. However, they now faced the daunting challenge of a rapid and perilous escape from the frigid Antarctic facility.
As they sprinted towards the cargo elevator, their intended means of egress, the reinforced glass doors of the Siren Laboratory explosively shattered outward. A Siren Forklift, commandeered with audacious recklessness, burst through the opening in a manner reminiscent of a chaotic 'Duke of Hazzard' stunt.
To understand the improbable sight of their unconventional getaway vehicle, let's rewind back the narrative to the moment the infiltration team split into two distinct groups.
Columbia, Denver, and Montpelier once more found themselves reluctantly crawling through the narrow confines of the ventilation shaft, accompanied by the steadfast Manjuus. Their experience echoed the claustrophobic struggles of 'John McClane' navigating the vents, though this time, the atmosphere was devoid of his signature wry, dad-inspired humor.
Instead, it was a band of teenage girls infiltrating an alien stronghold, and the inherent teenage drama was just beginning to simmer.
Montpelier once again endured the indignity of crawling in the cramped, dusty space alongside the surprisingly agile chickens.
"How much longer are we going to have to crawl to get there?" she inquired, her voice laced with exasperation at the uncomfortably restricted movement.
The ever-cheeky Skipper responded with a hint of playful mockery, "Do be so impatient, sweetheart. We're practically there; just a few more meters of elegant crawling, and our destination awaits."
Montpelier let out a low growl, her eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at the sassy, yellow Manjuu. She decidedly did not appreciate his condescending tone.
"You handled her well, Skipper," Private chimed in, praising their team leader for his perceived boldness.
Columbia, bringing up the rear, interjected with a mischievous grin, "You do remember that we're underage, right?"
Kowalski, ever the pragmatist, conducted a swift mental analysis. "Skipper, you could potentially face legal repercussions if accusations are directed your way, Sir."
"Nah.... Forget I even said that. We still have a mission to finish," Skipper declared, wanting to avoid summoning the unwanted attention of any federal law enforcement agencies.
"Rico, report."
Rico, positioned far ahead in the ventilation shaft, was diligently scouting their route. Taking an opportunity as he moved through the cramped space, he unscrewed several railing covers and cautiously poked his head out, searching for a suitable and safe landing spot.
"This is Rico. The landing zone is clear; no Sirens are patrolling in the immediate vicinity. We are clear to disembark," he reported succinctly.
Having relayed his findings, Rico took the initiative and jumped down first, eager to scout even further into the unknown.
Skipper received the report and turned to the girls behind him. "Alright, your crawling misery is about to conclude. Rico has located our landing spot, safely out of Siren view."
The girls exchanged surprised glances at his sudden shift in demeanor. "What...? I'm not foolish enough to deliberately break the law," Skipper clarified defensively.
"Awwww.... Look at you, suddenly all humble," Columbia teased the yellow Manjuu, thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture.
Skipper, feeling thoroughly outmaneuvered by the younger girls, finally conceded. "Fine, fine, you win."
Columbia stifled a little snicker. "Heh heh heh..."
"Enough of that playful banter; let's refocus on the objective," Skipper urged, eager to escape the teasing of the underage girl.
"This is Rico; the area is clear of Minions. Prepare to jump," Rico radioed back, his voice crisp and professional.
Skipper, Private, and Kowalski swiftly jumped off the ventilation shaft exit, landing silently next to the waiting and ready Rico. Soon after, the girls followed suit, dropping down from the opening.
"Everyone accounted for?" Skipper asked, quickly taking a mental headcount.
Receiving unanimous nods in affirmation, they moved stealthily into the darkest corners of the Lab, deliberately avoiding the dimly lit areas where they could be easily spotted. The room they now found themselves in, connected by the ventilation shaft, was the very same Laboratory complex they had infiltrated in Madagascar, including the subtly concealed access door.
"Skipper, look," Private whispered, pointing towards the familiar combination lock beside the hidden door.
"Damn it," Skipper cursed under his breath. "I should have anticipated encountering this obstacle again."
"We can't just recklessly eliminate a Siren Minion; that could trigger alarms and attract unwanted attention, potentially jeopardizing our entire mission," Kowalski cautioned.
"Well, we can't just stand here in the dark and wait indefinitely for someone to open the door," Montpelier commented, her impatience evident.
"That is indeed an option, but time is a critical factor, and we cannot afford such a passive approach," Skipper explained, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
Just as everyone was beginning to grow restless during the brief seconds of waiting, a stroke of unbelievable luck occurred: one of the oblivious Siren Minions, in its haste, exited the hidden room and carelessly failed to properly close the door behind it.
"Run!" Skipper hissed, and they all quickly surged forward, rushing inside the unguarded hidden room where the Siren Minions were seemingly manufactured.
"Well... that was certainly thrilling," Columbia commented, a hint of adrenaline still in her voice after their impromptu dash.
The Manjuus, with their characteristically stubby chicken feet, had struggled to keep pace with the girls during the brief sprint. "Glad you found some amusement in that," Skipper grumbled good-naturedly.
"Kowalski, any movement on our tracker?" Skipper asked, his focus immediately returning to the mission.
Kowalski unfolded his laptop and consulted the tracking device they had discreetly placed on the Chamber-Incubator earlier. The small red light of the tracking beacon blinked steadily on the laptop screen.
"Our target is directly ahead, Skipper," Kowalski confirmed, pointing towards the depths of the room.
They all then continued their advance in the dim light, taking the corners to avoid detection.
The girls observed the unsettling sight of Siren fetuses suspended within the fluid-filled Chamber-Incubators, which were arranged in neat rows and columns. Each incubator contained either a partially developed embryo or a fully formed Siren Minion.
"Ugh! My stomach is churning the longer I have to look at these," Denver said, visibly disgusted by the floating fetuses.
"There are far worse things the Sirens have done," Skipper said grimly, implying the existence of even greater atrocities committed by their alien adversaries.
"Kowalski."
Kowalski checked his laptop once more. "That's the one over there, Skipper," he indicated, pointing to a specific Chamber-Incubator that contained a Siren Minion distinctly different from the others in the column.
This Special Siren Minion was notably smaller, resembling a child in size, with striking white hair featuring a single blue strand, a simple white dress, and unusually pale white skin. It stood out starkly from the other, more uniform Siren Minions.
Columbia voiced the obvious. "That's a kid compared to all the others," she exclaimed, her surprise evident.
"Well, the distinct appearance of that particular one, especially compared to the homogenous others surrounding it, strongly suggests some form of importance," Skipper acknowledged, his gaze fixed on the unique Siren.
"Okay, target is in sight. How are we going to secure it? The entire room is filled with Humanoid Sirens – and all of them appear to be Executor Classes," Denver pointed out, stating the obvious challenge.
Skipper, the Manjuu with a perpetually formulating plan, thoughtfully contemplated their approach to this precarious situation. His two beady eyes darted around the room, scanning from left to right, up and down. Then, at the very periphery of his vision, he noticed a peculiar yet strangely familiar object.
The small wheels and the two prominent forks extending from the front unmistakably identified it as a ride of sorts. He quickly glanced back at their primary objective. In a flash of sudden inspiration, a plan, as audacious as it was unconventional, solidified in his mind.
A wide, almost devilish grin spread across his beak as he announced,
"Ladies and Gentleman.... I believe I have a rather... 'great' plan," he declared, his sinister smirk hinting at the chaotic brilliance about to unfold.
Everyone leaned in, their curiosity piqued by Skipper's undoubtedly daring and likely "American as f*ck" escape strategy.
"Kowalski, get our ride ready," he instructed, pointing towards the four-wheeled vehicle.
Kowalski didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He instantly recognized the kind of ludicrous plan that was forming in Skipper's head; they were indeed going to ride that thing.
"Got it, Skipper," Kowalski confirmed, already moving towards their unlikely transport.
"Rico."
"Sir!" Rico responded instantly.
"Keep the ladies up there occupied while we prepare our... escape." Skipper said, gesturing towards the two Humanoid Sirens positioned on a balcony overlooking the main operation below.
Rico nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he looked upwards and readied what could only be described as an "American amount" of explosives – which, by any reasonable standard, was a lot.
"You three," Skipper said, pointing at the Cleveland Sisters. "You girls need to maneuver the Target to the middle of the pathway, right in the center of the row of Incubators, so our... vehicle can retrieve it."
The Cleveland Sisters exchanged determined glances and nodded in agreement with the plan.
"Alright... everyone to their designated positions," Skipper declared, and the team swiftly began to execute their roles.
Private hopped excitedly, trying to get Skipper's attention. "Oh, oh, Skipper, what about me?" he asked, feeling somewhat left out of the initial assignments.
"Private," Skipper said with a stern but not unkind tone. "You and I are going to have a little... tango... with the lovely ladies down here on the ground," he added, playfully pinching Private's cheeks.
"Aye aye, Skipper!" Private chirped, offering a salute while his cheeks were still being squeezed.
"Good, now grab your M203 Grenade Launcher. We're going hot!" Skipper announced, the anticipation of action evident in his voice.
The distinct sound of the M203 Grenade Launcher being reloaded echoed through the chamber, a familiar noise straight out of a Hollywood action film, as the 40mm grenade was firmly pushed into the aluminum tube. The two Manjuu exchanged a brief, determined nod, a silent acknowledgment of their readiness for the impending chaos.
Both Skipper and Private quickly concealed themselves behind a column of Chamber-Incubators, meticulously timing their surprise assault on the two unsuspecting Humanoid Sirens.
Skipper counted down with his fingers, his gaze fixed on the distant figures. "Three... two... one... GO!"
In a swift, coordinated movement, the barrel of the M203 Grenade Launcher was leveled at the two Sirens. In a blinding flash, the 40mm grenade struck both targets in different parts of their bodies.
Before the stunned Sirens could even react or attempt to return fire, Skipper and Private unleashed a relentless hail of 7.62x51mm rounds, their rifles barking in the confined space. Several strategically placed "Quackbang Grenades" were also hurled towards the Sirens, adding to the devastating effect.
~Meanwhile~
The Cleveland Sisters had reached their designated Target Objective. Their instructions were to somehow lift the large Chamber-Incubator and position it in the center of the pathway running through the middle of the rows of identical incubators.
However, another significant problem immediately presented itself. As they examined the massive structure, they realized the sheer impossibility of lifting it, given its size, which dwarfed them several times over. Furthermore, there were no obvious handles or points of leverage to aid in such a feat.
"How are we... even going to lift this thing?" Montpelier asked, scratching her head in bewildered frustration.
Both Denver and Columbia turned to look at each other, and in a truly miraculous, once-in-a-million-years occurrence, the two seemingly shared the same improbable brainwave.
"Push it!"
"What???" Montpelier exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded by the seemingly absurd suggestion.
"Push! Come on, ladies, push!" Columbia yelled encouragingly, as she and Denver together began to shove against the heavy Target Objective, their combined strength barely making a dent.
Montpelier noticed several thick cables and wires obstructing her sisters' efforts. Reacting quickly, she drew her trusty KA-BAR Knife and began to slash through the restraining wires and cables.
Despite being without their experienced elder sister, who was still recovering from her recent injuries, the three Sisters poured all their determination and unity into the task at hand, striving to meet the expectations set for them.
With a remarkable display of sisterly cooperation and sheer willpower, they managed to complete their seemingly impossible task. Working in perfect sync, they pushed the heavy, Sci-Fi Chamber Incubator into the center of the designated pathway, precisely where their supposed getaway vehicle would need to maneuver.
Montpelier panted heavily, her and her sisters thoroughly exhausted from the strenuous effort of moving the heavy machinery.
"Where... where's our ride?" she asked, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"It should be here any moment now," Columbia replied, her gaze fixed on the direction from which their unconventional transport was expected to appear.
...
Kowalski meticulously connected several wires directly to the Siren Forklift's hood, near the location of its power source. A few brief sparks erupted as the final connection was made, bringing the dormant machine to life. It had taken him several tense minutes to carefully connect the unfamiliar wires, all while diligently avoiding any potentially lethal electrocution.
Finally, after his painstaking efforts, the machine shuddered and roared to life, the strange Siren markings on its exterior panels glowing with an eerie luminescence. The engine's sound was unlike any conventional combustion engine, emitting instead a distinct, Sci-Fi humming of complex internal machinery.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Kowalski quickly closed the hood and clambered into the operator's seat. However, his stubby chicken feet frustratingly failed to reach the pedals for throttle or acceleration.
With a potent mix of grit and mounting impatience fueling him, acutely aware of the immense pressure of the mission and the potential danger to everyone if he failed to get the vehicle moving, he made a swift, desperate decision. He grabbed his trusty M4 Rifle and forcefully jammed its buttstock against the accelerator pedal.
The four heavy-duty wheels of the Forklift shrieked in protest as smoke billowed from the front axle, the sudden forced acceleration overwhelming the tires' grip on the smooth floor. With a sharp clunk as Kowalski engaged the gear, the Forklift lurched forward with a speed far exceeding that of any ordinary industrial vehicle.
With the four wheels screaming in tortured protest and Kowalski's surprisingly skillful yet unorthodox driving, the Forklift appeared to be expertly drifting through the narrow passageway.
"Our ride is here!" Private excitedly remarked.
"Move out of the way!" Kowalski yelled a frantic warning as the speeding Forklift careened directly towards them.
Everyone scrambled out of the Forklift's path just as the vehicle's tires emitted thick plumes of smoke as Kowalski frantically slammed on the makeshift brakes, the butt of the M4 rifle pressing against the pedal with all his might.
The Forklift screeched to a halt just inches away from their precious Target Objective. With practiced movements, Kowalski yanked several levers, swiftly maneuvering the carriage – the two prominent forks – into position.
"Alright, get in!" Kowalski announced, having successfully secured the Chamber-Incubator onto the waiting forks.
"Charlie Team, this is Mike Team. We have the Target Objective secured and are heading out, over!" Skipper radioed, tersely announcing their impending departure.
"GET IN THE FORKLIFT!!!!!!!!" Skipper roared at the top of his lungs, his urgent order nearly drowned out by the cacophony of nearby gunfire and distant cannon fire.
Columbia, Denver, and Montpelier quickly scrambled onto the back of the speeding Forklift, finding precarious perches right on the hood. Columbia and Denver desperately gripped the mast structure for stability, while Montpelier clung tightly to the top cover in the center.
Skipper and Private positioned themselves beside the driver, their rifles pointed outwards, ready for any immediate threats.
"Rico, we're moving out!" Skipper radioed, calling their explosive expert back to the team.
Rico, meanwhile, was fully engaged in a chaotic close-quarters fight with the two Humanoid Sirens. In a display of utterly unorthodox tactics, Rico then pulled out a "Quackbang Grenade" and threw it the oblivious Siren Minions.
He then leaped off the two-story balcony with surprising agility, not forgetting to give the bewildered Siren a rude "birdy gesture," the grenade pin conspicuously absent from his raised middle finger.
Boom!
"Quackbang Grenade" detonated beneath the feet of Siren Minions.
Rico landed with a resounding thud on the top of the Forklift's roof, completely unfazed.
"Rico is here and accounted for. Private, hit the pedal!"
"Aye aye, Skipper!" Private replied, immediately stomping his stubby chicken feet down on the makeshift accelerator.
"Music!" Skipper yelled, wanting to add a soundtrack to their chaotic escape.
"Done," Kowalski reported, having already anticipated the request.
"GOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
—Cue: Korn Feat Xzibit – Fight the Power—
The Forklift's wheels once again spun furiously, emitting thick smoke as the front-wheel drive engaged with the force of a race car launch. The commandeered vehicle rapidly gained momentum, speeding recklessly down the narrow walkway.
"Dead end!" one of the Cleveland sisters shouted in alarm as they saw the doors they had initially entered through were now firmly closed.
"There's no such thing as a dead end," Skipper declared with unwavering confidence. "Rico, make a way!"
Rico, ever obliging and equipped with the appropriate firepower, hefted an AT-4 Anti-Tank Rocket Launcher onto his shoulder. He quickly aligned the crude sights on the obstructing doors and, with a decisive flick of a switch, the "dead end" was instantly obliterated as the powerful rocket tore through the reinforced metal.
Kowalski, demonstrating surprising vehicular finesse, expertly maneuvered the Forklift around the debris-strewn opening as if navigating a busy road intersection.
The Cleveland Sisters, despite the inherent danger, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the adrenaline-pumping thrill of their unconventional ride. The idea of using a Siren Forklift as a getaway vehicle was undeniably ludicrous, but the sheer audacity and excitement were undeniable.
The remaining Siren Minions inside the Laboratory scrambled out of the Forklift's path, utterly bewildered by the sheer absurdity of the situation unfolding before them. They had been going about their mundane tasks – when the heavy metal door had explosively burst open, instantly capturing their stunned attention.
Through the dissipating smoke, they witnessed a Siren Forklift, laden with a Chamber-Incubator containing something of immense importance to their creators, barreling towards them. A chaotic group of Manjuus and Shipgirls were precariously perched on the vehicle. They reacted too late to effectively intercept it as it roared past.
"Fire!" a Siren finally yelled, belatedly issuing the command.
Skipper and the Cleveland Sisters immediately opened fire at the remaining intact glass doors of the Siren Lab. The combined force of the speeding Forklift and the barrage of gunfire shattered the already damaged glass as they crashed through with their "Forklift of Fury."
Broken glass shards rained down everywhere as the Forklift, carrying the Sirens' precious cargo, burst out of the laboratory. The remaining Sirens belatedly turned their weapons towards the escaping vehicle but hesitated.
They were reluctant to unleash a full barrage, fearing damage to the Chamber-Incubator that was the very reason for their presence in the cold Antarctic. This brief hesitation in opening fire proved to be the crucial factor that prevented a direct and potentially devastating counter-attack.
"Fire! Fire!" another Siren shrieked, trying to rally their forces.
Everyone aboard the Forklift unleashed a concentrated volley of lead as they conducted a daring drive-by assault on the stunned Sirens. The roaring barrels of M4 Rifles and the underslung M203 Grenade Launcher were punctuated by the more powerful blasts of the AT-4 Anti-Tank Rocket Launcher.
The utter chaos created by the Mike Team provided the Charlie Team with a small but vital window of opportunity to advance towards the cargo elevator they had designated as their primary escape route.
Lucas, Biloxi, and Birmingham quickly and carefully lowered their rescued prisoners onto the waiting platform. They utilized the stack of nearby crates as a makeshift barricade, opening fire on any approaching Sirens. To maximize their defensive firepower, they activated their ship rigging, synchronizing their powerful cannon fire with their rifle shots.
The Cleveland Sisters had been restricted from activating their more conspicuous rigging during the initial stealth infiltration of the Siren Facility, but now, with the need for overwhelming firepower paramount, they didn't hesitate to deploy their cannons.
"Protect the rescued prisoners and call the Mike Team over! I'm going to activate the platform!" Lucas yelled over the din of battle to Biloxi and Birmingham.
"Roger that!" they both replied, their voices firm despite the chaos.
Lucas sprinted away from the platform and towards the activation switch that would send the cargo platform rapidly ascending towards the open ceiling.
"We just received orders to get onto the platform! Kowalski, turn the Forklift towards that platform!" Skipper yelled, pointing towards their designated escape route.
Kowalski glanced in the direction Skipper indicated. "Copy that, Skipper!" he yelled back, wrestling with the makeshift steering.
With a screech of the skedding tires, Kowalski sharply turned the steering mechanism, and the Forklift veered towards the waiting elevator platform.
Rico, still perched precariously on the roof of the speeding Forklift, wreaked havoc amongst the pursuing Sirens with his AT-4 Anti-Tank Rocket Launcher, specifically targeting those wielding heavier weaponry that posed a more significant threat.
The Cleveland Sisters, their cannons and rifles blazing, unleashed a relentless rain of fire and explosive shells as the Forklift continued its high-speed, mobile assault.
With another agonizing shriek of tires, the Forklift finally ground to a halt as Kowalski expertly drove it onto the waiting platform. Everyone aboard disembarked with surprising professionalism amidst the ongoing firefight, quickly adopting firing positions behind the available cover.
The stack of crates provided a minimal barrier for the Manjuus and the rescued prisoners. As they continued to fire their weapons at the disoriented Sirens, seemingly forgetting the crucial mechanism of their escape, the platform suddenly lurched upwards with a jolt.
The platform ascended rapidly, groaning under the unexpected weight, emitting a mechanical humming and the screech of stressed metal. Lucas, having momentarily directed the defense, sprinted once again towards the ascending platform, desperately trying to board.
The platform was rising so quickly that it threatened to leave him behind. However, the strategically placed stacks of crates provided him with a series of makeshift steps to gain elevation.
Pushing his running stamina to its absolute limit, Lucas propelled himself upwards from the last stack of crates, lunging towards the edge of the rapidly ascending platform.
He reached the edge, his outstretched fingers just inches away from a secure grip. Sensing his imminent failure, Columbia and Denver reacted instantly, grabbing his right hand just as he was about to fall.
"We got you!" the two sisters exclaimed in unison, their combined strength pulling him onto the safety of the platform.
"Thank you, girls," Lucas said, offering them a grateful smile, which they both returned.
The Sirens below continued to fire their plasma weaponry, making desperate attempts to hit the ascending platform while carefully avoiding the precious Chamber-Incubator.
Everyone on the platform instinctively ducked down as a bright energy missile whizzed directly over their heads, slamming into the metal walls behind them with a deafening impact. The Sirens made frantic attempts to halt the platform's ascent, but their efforts proved futile.
"What's next, damn Sirens, blowing up the whole facility!?" Private yelled, his voice filled with panicked exasperation as the missile had nearly taken his chicken head off.
Lucas swiftly pulled a remote detonator from his pocket. He glanced back down at the strategically placed stacks of crates below. With a deliberate press of the button, the C-4 charges he had attached to the crates earlier exploded in a series of powerful detonations, catching the surprised Sirens completely off guard. Several Siren Minions, caught carrying crates with hidden explosives, were instantly blown into bloody fragments.
The lower levels of the facility were now engulfed in a chaotic sea of fire, the widespread explosions a testament to the numerous crates Lucas had strategically placed throughout their mission.
"I... I think I might have overdone it a little," Private muttered, staring down at the inferno below.
Siren Minions also began to board another, identical cargo platform on the opposite side of the vast chamber. However, these Sirens cautiously held back their full firepower, clearly reluctant to risk destroying the entire facility and their valuable research. The open space above the rooftop presented no such restrictions.
The ceiling above them dramatically split open as their platform neared the top of the facility. A blast of frigid Antarctic air, carrying stinging snow, immediately assaulted the rescued prisoners, who were still clad in little more than rags.
Lucas crouched down and placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of each of the rescued men. "Just hold on a little longer; our ride is on its way," he said, his voice firm and reassuring.
The rescued prisoners, despite their weakened state and the biting cold, did not utter a single complaint. Instead, they gratefully inhaled the fresh air, a welcome change from the fetid, rotting stench of their confinement.
The brilliant azure blue sky and the stark white expanse of the Antarctic landscape greeted them as the platform finally reached the rooftop of the Siren Facility. However, their problems were far from over.
On the opposite side of the rooftop, another cargo platform emerged, carrying a contingent of heavily armed Humanoid Sirens, all clearly ready to open fire.
"Get down!" Lucas bellowed the order just as a hail of surprise plasma fire erupted from the advancing Sirens.
"Where are the goddamn Helos?!" Skipper shouted, his voice strained with urgency.
"They'll be here any moment now!" came the shouted reply.
"Well, tell them to get here faster! We're about to be completely surrounded!"
The Sirens continued their relentless assault, focusing their fire on Lucas's team of operatives. In the heat of the intense exchange, they seemingly overlooked the distinct, rhythmic chopping sound that was rapidly growing louder in the air.
Approaching rapidly from the horizon, two MH-60 Seahawk helicopters materialized at the edge of the Siren Facility. These formidable aircraft were heavily armed, each equipped with eight AGM-119 Hellfire Missiles and four powerful GAU-19 Rotary Cannons mounted on their wing pylons and side doors.
(To any of the young, patriotic individuals following this account, imagine the iconic scene from the movie: Black Hawk Down, specifically the arrival of the MH-6 Little Birds executing a daring fly-by over a rooftop teeming with hostile Somalis.)
Close Air Support had arrived. A devastating hail of .50 caliber rounds ripped across the rooftop, tearing into the ranks of the surprised Sirens. A chaotic mix of Siren blood and swirling gusts of snow obscured the gruesome sight of shredded Siren parts amidst the relentless rain of heavy machine gun fire.
After the intense barrage of .50 caliber rounds ceased, Lucas cautiously raised his head, observing the rooftop now littered with swirling snow and the gruesome remnants of their adversaries.
"This is Hawk-1, Tomahawk Strike will commence in under one minute. Everyone is ordered to embark immediately," the Pilot of the lead Seahawk radioed, his voice calm and professional despite the unfolding chaos.
Lucas immediately turned his attention to the Manjuus. "Get the Target Objective secured to one of the Helos! We have less than a minute before the Tomahawk Strike, go-go-go!"
"Copy!" Skipper and the other Manjuus responded instantly, their movements swift and coordinated.
The Manjuus quickly prepared the bulky Target Objective for extraction. The second MH-60 Seahawk expertly maneuvered into a stable hover directly above the Manjuus, lowering thick extraction ropes.
Skipper and his team rapidly secured the heavy ropes around the Chamber-Incubator. Once that was done, Skipper and the other Manjuus swiftly buckled themselves into the Helo Rope Extraction harnesses as the Seahawk slowly ascended, steadily lifting their precious Target Objective into the air.
Lucas and the girls, along with their grateful rescued prisoners, quickly boarded the other Seahawk, which had descended to rooftop level to facilitate their rapid embarkation.
The helicopter crew efficiently distributed warm towels, wrapping them protectively around the shivering, bare-skinned rescued prisoners to shield them from the brutal Antarctic temperatures.
"Everyone is accounted for. Let's get out of here!" Lucas radioed, confirming that their entire team was safely aboard.
"Roger that," came the immediate reply from the Pilot.
The powerful rotary blades of the Helicopter increased their rotational speed, generating a tremendous downdraft as it ascended rapidly and banked sharply, flying away from the now-doomed Siren Facility.
Everyone aboard the departing helicopter glanced back at the Siren Facility for one last fleeting moment, just as the first of the Tomahawk Cruise Missiles began their devastating descent. In a display of overwhelming force, twenty Tomahawk missiles rained down upon the lone Siren outpost in what could only be described as a level of strategic carpet bombing.
"That's one hell of a Missile Bombardment," Columbia commented, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and shock.
"More like overkill," Montpelier muttered, still slightly unnerved by the sheer scale of the destruction.
Lucas chuckled, recognizing the girls' unfamiliarity with the concept of a somewhat extreme "proportional response." "We're simply ensuring the complete and utter eradication of the enemy by bombing their base into oblivion. Don't worry, girls, you'll get used to it in no time."
"Well... that's one hell of a proportional then," Denver echoed, still processing the magnitude of the attack.
DDG-125 USS Jack H Lucas
The Aegis Destroyer, awaited the returning Seahawks in the frigid Antarctic waters. On its expansive helideck, a contingent of Manjuus dressed in Medical Staff attire stood ready.
The dedicated Medical Staff were there to provide immediate assistance to the rescued prisoners, prepared to treat their weakened bodies and the lingering effects of their brutal captivity at the hands of the Sirens.
The Seahawk carrying Lucas, the Cleveland Sisters, and the rescued prisoners expertly hovered above the helideck before slowly and safely landing on the moving Aegis Destroyer.
The waiting Medical Staff immediately rushed forward, carefully assisting the weakened rescued prisoners. They were gently placed onto stretchers and hurriedly transported to the ship's infirmary for urgent medical treatment.
The Crew meticulously checked the landing helicopter for any signs of damage before securing it back in the hangar. Meanwhile, a Manjuu on deck, holding glowing signal sticks, guided the second Seahawk, the one carrying their precious Target Objective suspended beneath it.
As the Chamber-Incubator was carefully lowered onto the deck, a team of waiting Crew rushed forward to secure the valuable cargo, swiftly stowing it safely within one of the ship's hangars.
With the last Seahawk safely landed and stowed, Hopper, the Meowfficer with the rank of Captain, issued the order for the withdrawal of the Ship from the area. The perilous mission in the icy wastes of Antarctica was finally concluded.