The Vanta Reaper warbird roared above the clouds as the Ghost of Ottawa headed for Ottawa. There, two options had become viable options for an base of aerial-operations. There was Ottawa Township High School's large levy, or there was the Old Ottawa Airfield available for use. Sjydive Chicago had been cratered by tribals... that the Ghost promptly had... "pacified" with prejudice."
As the Vanta Reaper reached the outskirts of Ottawa, the Ghost descended below the clouds. It was then somethign caught his eye. He shook his head annoyed. "Stupid Sanctuarians... always running for their lives from tribals...", the Ghost sighed, knowing he couldn't hope to resist the impulse to help them, "Ottawa Ground, this Vanta Reaper, over." The Ghost awaited a reply, then the radio's static crackled as H's voice came over the radio. "This is Ottawa Ground, we read you. What is your situation, over?" The Ghost tipped his wing to get a better view of the chaos below. "Got a bunch of Chic-Sanctuary morons on the verge of becoming tribal pike mascots. I'm heading into interviene, over." Replied the Ghost awaiting H's reply. "Roger that, keep Vanta Reaper airborne and give 'em hell! Over." The Ghost put Vanta Reaper into a corkscrew dive, pitching his nose down with the throttle wide open. The warbird was dropping as if it were hawk, talons open, diving for the kill toward its prey.
"Roger WILCO (will comply), Vanta Reaper out." As the Ghost dove on the tribals below, the situation on the ground wasn't exactly what Dr. Sue and her team had imagined. The rougher they'd hired pushed their "Grey Utility Buggy", or "GUB" to it's limits. The all-eletric GUB was doing it's best to dodge no-guided rockets, modified fireworks, and other explosive the tribals threw their way. However, just as the GUB's range warning began sounding, a vanta-black blur swooped in behind the tribals' UTV-Bus and opened fired the eight-guns, (six interior-wing-mounted .50 cals and the two gun pods), shredding the UTV-Bus and turning it into a flaming wreck of twisted sheet metal. Dr. Sue, Oliver, and the rougher all watched as this vanta-black blur ripped back up into the cloud. Suddenly, their radio crackled to life.
"You morons aught to go home. The Grey isn't a place for Sanctuarians with "good intentions" or "are with the government... here to help. So beat it, while you still have lives left to live." The voice said, then their radio went silent once more. Dr. Sue snapped her gaze on the rougher, "Follow that blur, and I'll pay you triple your rate." The rougher about choked on his purified water. "Triple? Shit, hold on!" She yelled as she slammed her foot down onto the GUB's accelerator pedal, tearing after the vanta-black blur that was running out of cloud cover.
"Fuck...", started the Ghost, noticing the GUB in pursuit of him. He knew the cloud cover wouldn't hold out much longer, so he did what any warbird pilot would do. "Ottawa Ground, this is Vanta Reaper... I have Sanctuarians tracking me. Prepare to greet them... safety off, no one gets to the Hangar-Bravo." On the ground, H didn't need to reply. Rather, he, Katie, and several others grabbed rifles, pistols, and/or weapons of any kind and caliber. They quickly rushed over to Ottawa's Northside, home to the Old Ottawa Airfield and setup their defensive line. Meanwhile... the Ghost decided to see if he couldn't... shake his tail. He pushed the stick down only pulled up a fifty-feet from the flat-landscape of Ottawa's outskirts... right alone side the GUB.
"Clearly you didn't hear me. GO... HOME... WALL DWELLERS. We do not need y'all, nor want y'all here. Last warning." The Vanta Reaper's throttle, commanded by the Ghost's hand, pushed that V-12 faster than the GUB could reach in power conservation mode. The vanta-black P-51C gained just a bit of altitude before banking hard right, heading for the airfield. Once it was in sight, the Ghost dropped the landing gear, throttled back and touched down smoothly. Once he'd reached Hangar-Bravo, he throttled up and spun the nightmare P-51C around to face the airfield before cutting the propeller and shutting down the V-12. H rushed over, tossed the Ghost his BAR, before the two of them rushed toward the makeshift gates of the Old Ottawa Airfield.
Once the Ghost and H had joined the others, they aimed toward the werring of the electric motor of the GUB coming toward the gate. For the first time, the Sanctuarians and the Last Ottawans would finally meet, face-to-face.