[b][center][h2]Paige Kennedy & [color=f26522]Milo Ventri[/color][/h2][/center][/b]



A passing cloud layer broke beneath them and the island was fully in view along with the airfield. The surf-beaten Pacific rock and grey-green of weathered pines were plowed away decades ago for a single runway and a few hangars, same as Marlin said. A checker patterned water tower stood over the facility and the whole scene looked like an old photograph. Paige watched carefully. She could feel the beat of her heart pick up. The amphibious plane she followed on her phone sat on the the end of the runway in the distance parked next to a sleek white business jet and another helicopter. A few small aircraft were tied down along the hangar taxi-way. A small group of figures moved around between the two aircraft but didn’t seem to pay any mind to the Daedalus helicopter. The island was still a public field. Paige slid a magazine into her pistol and worked the action to put a round in the chamber glancing back briefly at Milo knowingly. 

As they crossed over the airfield to the south, she saw him: Nikki, standing nonchalant. He didn’t even look up. His hands moved in conversation with a few a others gathered in front of the business jet. One of them was the same man she had chased from the Luna Sports Facility. She gritted her teeth at the sight of him immediately thinking back to how they’d tried to kill her; her bloodsoaked apartment downtown, how they’d gone after Milo and nearly done the same, the Club reduced to ashes, Elvin dead and no telling how many other people they had destroyed before they made their way to Sol City. A strong breeze from the north buffeted against the helicopter’s nose breaking her momentary contemplation, but Marlin swiftly countered and had the wheels daintily on the tarmac behind one of the civil aviation offices. Paige didn’t know much about flying, but it seemed like a pretty slick move and they were on the ground in no time as the rotor blades again picked up and beat away back over the ocean. 

Finally removing the contents of his bag, Milo attached the stock and silencer on the ends of the base AK-47 build he’d set aside for weeks in his shop. The unmistakable curved magazine slid into the receiver with the precision of a finely crafted watch. He looked at Paige and there was nothing but quiet silence over the island as the echo of Marlin’s helicopter faded away. There wasn’t much to be said. It seemed like things were at least going in their favor for a change. She told him not to think about it, but the thoughts continued to creep around his mental blocks. [i]What would happen if he had to shoot people?[/i] He wasn’t a soldier or a cop. [i]Could she really ‘take care of it’ if he did?[/i] She seemed pretty confident about it which even to him, knowing her for more than a decade, felt a little unsettling, but then that was something he understood about her and he knew he was one of the few that got it: Paige didn’t join the Marshals because she was interested in justice, she joined so that she would have near free-reign [i]to do whatever she wanted[/i]. All the time they had known each other, he had only heard her stories. He never thought [i]he’d be in one[/i], but here they were about to go after a Detroit crime boss on some derelict airfield on an island in the middle of the ocean. 

What sounded like a small turbine began to spool up on the other side of the building breaking the silence. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Paige sad flatly.