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|The second chapter in the saga of the 157th||
LOCATION: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The summer heat in what was left of Philadelphia was brutal. Heat distortions were coming off of the cement as a Jeep rolled on by. Dodging rubble and small fires was no easy thing since the Germans had attacked the city 2 months ago. Everyone who had lived there had fled when the Death-Cats and the tanks came into the city. But the Germans had left, leaving the city quiet and still as death. The sound of the Jeeps engine was all that could be heard for miles.
“How much farther?” Henry asked himself as he drove around the piles of debris. The front end of the Jeep smashed into the side of a fallen tree. “Whoa!” he yelled as he regained control of the vehicle. The Jeep swerved, and he got it back under control. “Jeez! Where the heck did that tree come from?”
A few hours later, the Jeep pulls up to a gate. A guard comes walking out of the guardhouse, armed with a machine gun. He walked up to the Jeep, with a menacing look on his face.
“Name,” he snarls.
“Captain Henry Taylor. I’m supposed to report to General Freedman. I’m the new Razorn instructor.” He holds up his badge to the guard.
“Very well. You may pass.” The gate is opened, and Henry drives on through. The base was huge, much larger than most of the other military bases in the state. There were two Razorns, Cyote class, standing at the entrance. As Henry drove into the base, they started to follow him.
“An escort?” Henry says to himself as he drives on. The Razorns continue to follow him, until he reaches the parking lot, then they turn and walk back to the front gate. The shaking of the ground from the mechs walking throws Henry off balance as he gets out off the Jeep, and he falls to the ground.
“Ouch!” he said as he hit the ground. Looking up, he saw a man standing there, with an intense look of disapproval on his face. He was probably in his early 60’s, and had white hair. He was wearing a green uniform, with general’s bars on the collar.
“Oh! General Freedman! Sir!” Henry jumped up and saluted.
“Well, Captain Taylor, I presume. You sure are looking a fright,” he said, as he looked Henry up and down. “From what I understand, you’ve had a hard time since your discharge. Getting into alcohol and such.”
“Yes sir. I was pulled out of rehab when my commission was reinstated. May I ask you a question, Sir?”
“Exactly why was my commission reinstated?”
General Freedmen looked up. “You want to know?”
“Well, the truth of the matter is, we need pilots. Desperately. With the Japs coming in from the West, and the Krauts coming from the East, we need people to train pilots for our planes and Razorns. We’ve come out with a few new models since you were discharged, but we haven’t got anyone to drive-em. We need experienced pilots like you to train the rookies. So, that’s why you were called out. You had a pretty outstanding record. Tell me, what was your call sign?”
Henry raised his eyes, all of the talk of the past kind of depressing him. “Paladin.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I took out the pilot called the Black Knight. I had my headlights on high. They said that my Razorn sort of glowed, like holy light. When I returned, they said that I was like a knight of God himself. They started to call me Paladin.
“So, you think that you can teach these rookies to pilot like that, Paladin?” The general patted Henry on the shoulder. “Follow me, I’ve got something to show you.”
|Chapter 1||Chapter 4|