Hang strolls out on the tarmac towards "Mom's Favorite", his parked P51D. The plane captain, observing his approach reaches into the bottom of his roll-away and pulls out a cold can of Rolling Rock; pops the top with his church key and hands it to Hang, with a question in his eye.. "...tonight??"
Hang takes a long pull; looks up at the darkening skies; then down to the tarplin spread on the ground festooned with the belts of ammo to be fed to the guns after they are wiped and inspected. He glances up at the opened engine side cowl, and looks again at the grease streaked plane captain with a question oh his own unspoken. "yah, Hang.. she'll be ready." There is no doubt, only certainty in his voice.
Hang finishes the beer; hands back the empty can. He smiles. "I dunno Skip. Seems something big is brewin in knitland. The rooks are in an uproar; and bish HQ is issuing standby orders and boosting border caps. The LW elements are also settin up for something and when they get up; I get an itch. Word has it the knights will he hosting an all out B17 raid to parts unknown."
Just then; the ground trembles with the sound of Merlins on full WEP; their eyes swing back up to the sky as 4 P51's flash past on their way to the war. As they dwindle in the distance, Hang, smiling now; turns back to the crew dog.
"Thanks Skip. I'll tell em we're ready. If they need us, and yer willin, then we go to knitland tonight for escort duty with the knits B17 group against the LW. If anybody needs me; tell em ta shout me up on common tonight. I'll be around."
Hang turns to head back toward the ops shack; takes a few steps, and turns back. "...and fer crissakes, get ridda that pisswater beer in that overgrown suitcase before the IG spots it."
Hang is ready.
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PALE HORSES
"I looked, and behold; a Pale Horse, and it's riders name was Death, and Hell followed with him" Rev 6.8
