Tasìa lay in the tall grass with her right eye pressed into the scope. Crap. There was more than one warbird above. At least one of the warbirds had a sharpshooter. Likely a gunner who switched out his Gatling for a more accurate rifle to target her from a safer distance.

Unfortunately, none of the gunports on the three warbirds above her were currently open.

Tasìa considered the severity of the strike she just now survived.

They were not here to apprehend or to kidnap her, they were here to kill her. Who were these people?

Tasìa peeked up again, and she cursed a mild 'Sacré Madré' at her own frustration. With no clear target to exploit, Tasìa pulled her neoPalm out and contacted León.

-Switching to text to maintain silence. Do you know who our visitors are?

León texted back.

-Sol was hoping you would know. I just got word from him that our fleet of warbirds has been grounded by an electronic intercept based attack.

She thought of the satellite. The EU? Why would they want her dead? Her only connection with them was through Demona Heloïste. Did her possession of that EU spook's neoPalm put her in jeopardy?

Tasìa wrote back to León:

-The file I was going to give you is a diagnostic of the attack on Lt. Colonel Sol's warbird. It was done through an EU satellite possessing an energy weapon.

Tasìa reloaded her Desert Eagle. She peered back up at the warbirds as they established a flight pattern. With no threat from Sol's copters coming forth, they bided their time.

They were not going to repeat their two previous tactical blunders that Tasìa exploited to her greater advantage.

León answered back.

-Shit. The EU never interferes directly in Quadra operations. Why are they doing so now?

She shook her head with an unsatisfied grimace pressed upon her face. Tasìa put off giving any more consideration to what this meant in the greater scheme of things.

The warbirds were her immediate concern. What were they waiting to do? It was going to be dark soon. She could slip out of the valley then. Her attackers had to be aware of that.

-León, what is the make of those copters? Any vulnerabilities that you are aware of? I have a Big Fucking Sniper rifle, and I need an idea where to put the bullet.

He answered back quickly.

- It is Russian. Very recent vintage. A Black Wolverine. Hybrid carapace mesh designed for both stealth & kinetic absorption.

Tasìa sighed in frustration. This much she already gathered from her close encounter. She texted a response back in turn.

- The birds are not likely to come down again and just let me empty a clip from a Desert Eagle into them at fifty feet. They fell for that trick once already.

This time León sent her a file over with a text message accompanying it.

- I was getting to that, my friend. The files this is based upon are classified Ultra even still. The manufacturer would prefer its clients did not see this. I have here for you a nifty summation of what you will need to know.

She opened it. It was a PNG that cycled a visually aided instruction set. The vulnerability in the Black Wolverine lay in the delicate system integration that made the stealth design possible. The Black Wolverine not only absorbed radar but it suppressed the vehicle's noise output.

The vibrational threshold for the warbird systems was tuned down extremely low for an operational helicopter used in the field. It was meant for quick strikes with minimal extraneous circumstances to cause wear and tear. If the sound suppressor was damaged, the warbird would rattle apart.

Two bolts on the pilot side, just above the fuselage, held the sound suppressor in place.

No wonder it is relatively lightly weaponized compared to other warbirds of equivalent size. The systems are too delicate in their integration to handle heavy firepower.

She observed no missiles nor any bombs on the warbirds. Just a gunner mount and the two 30 mm turrets upfront.

It was a good thing, too. Missiles would make mincemeat of anyone left in the office. Napalm bombs would sweep out most of the tall grass filled lot.

Perhaps, that is why the warbirds maintained their positions. To keep her in check while the real firepower was on its way for a massive carpet bomb run.

She had to act quickly. She texted León.

- Thanks, that was very helpful. Can you run when I give you the signal?

- Not a problem.

- Great. Stand by. Be ready in less than a minute. I want you to run to the valley entrance. I have a motorcycle parked there.

Tasìa shouldered the rifle. She had the three holding patterns memorized. As she performed two dry runs, she learned the most time effective switch up between the three warbirds, as they tended to only expose their vulnerable sides in a specific order.

There was also a time differential for bullet impact to consider, meaning the lead placement above the target she aimed for differed by a distinct fraction of a second for each of the warbirds.

Deep intuitional calculations were involved. On a non-moving target with the 30x scope, hitting the bolt heads at two hundred and fifty to three hundred yards was a trivial matter.

Her scope even possessed a smart gauge to automatically calculate the parabellum lead she would need to consider velocity degradation, the impact of gravity on the barrel angle, and wind shear resistance on the accuracy of the shot she took.

As she watched the numbers roll slowly out on the in-scope visual display, Tasìa became annoyed.

The smart gauge was nearly worthless with three moving targets where they had time to react if she waited out the calculations from the scope between each shot.

Deep intuitional calculations. She had always been aware there was something special about her understanding of the ratios underlying the world around her. As a child, swinging from vines without ever missing when her spider monkey friends fell short trying to keep up with her, Tasìa knew this truth even then.

She would have to ignore the display and learn to trust her own intuition once again.

Tasìa set her breath still, and she made the six shots.

Before she could even be certain of her success, Tasìa dashed to an abandoned bulldozer just in case they caught sight of her muzzle flash as it registered on their sensors for a brief moment even through the IR white noise.

Tasìa crouched beneath the downturned trow blade, only to be greeted by a lancehead snake. It swiped at her with a quick snap of its jaws.

Tasìa twisted back in a dodge.

I don't have time for this.

Lunging forward, Tasìa grabbed the snake just beneath its head. With her other hand, she latched its tail. Tasìa flung it several yards, hitting the crane that leaned against the mesa.

She paused a moment to catch her breath. Above her, the warbirds screeched with a sound like a high horsepower boat engine without a drop of oil.

Except, these were three gear-shot high horsepower engines singing their baleful shrieks in unison.

She suddenly grew nauseous with the sound enveloping her, rattling through her bones. Her stomach felt as if it had been punched a dozen times.

Tasìa leaned over beside the front bulldozer wheel, and she wretched up the little amount of content that existed inside her stomach.

Essentially, a macadamia nut cookie that left a horrible and weird aftertaste this go around.

"Yuck. Yuck. Yuck."

From inside the blade scoop, she heard the cascading hiss of many snakes. There was a nest of them, of course. The blade made for a most natural cavern for them. Tasìa climbed up the bulldozer platform.

Several bursts from an automatic weapon went off from a dozen feet on the other side of the bulldozer. Tasìa ducked, leaning against the steel pole support holding the cover above her head.

A bullet ripped into the cabin beside her, tearing through the metal and leaving an ugly sheer.

The shot came from one of the warbirds above. Her torso would have caught the bullet if she had not ducked.

It would have ended her. That thought rattled her.

Best laid plans of mice who get eaten by snakes and men who get bitten by snakes come to naught.

As she shook off the feeling of vulnerability, another long burst of automatic fire came from nearby her.

She eased out her Desert Eagle.

"Tasìa, you can come out now. The threat is taken care of."

It was León.

Tasìa stood up and glanced at the sky. Though two warbirds were almost out of visual range with long, pitch-black trails of smoke behind them, one less damaged helicopter still hovered above where Tasìa stood.

A gun port remained open on the warbird's side. A bloodied corpse leaned out in lifeless sprawl across a GAU-17.

Tasìa shouldered the TAC-50. She had one remaining round in the active clip. She focused the scope and found the stubborn last bolt missing half of its head. She fired and successfully popped it out.

The warbird almost instantly rattled shaken. The pilot stabilized the vehicle and turned it around to join the other two back to its base.

"Whew," Tasìa yelped.

She jumped off the bulldozer and into León's arms for a big hug. They both giggled for several seconds before releasing one another.

"So, what happened," León asked. "I never thought I would ever have to guard your six."

She pointed to the downturned dozer blade.

"Squatters are occupying my hidey-hole. Vipers, my good buddy."

The sound of hissing now caught León's attention. He double backed with a jerk of his head.

"Oh, shit," he answered as he put distance between himself and the vipers.

"Are you as afraid of snakes as you are spiders," Tasìa chided.

"I've spent plenty of time in the jungle to know that that is a nest of lanceheads. Just showing my proper respects."

Tasìa saw a congealed wound above León's temple. She reached up with two remaining spare tissues and wiped it down.

Tasìa spoke.

"Let's get out of here before they carpet bomb this entire valley. Are you up for that steak dinner I mentioned earlier?"

León grinned. "You are serious about that little dive you want to take me to, aren't you?"

With a slight nod, she took his hand and pulled him forward.

"Come on, man. You got your invitation. Now, what are you waiting for?"