Over a dozen fighter jets circled over the air force base.
The pilots tried everything, but they still couldn’t regain control of their aircraft. Even the ergency ejection systems were locked.
Sitting in his cockpit, Franklin gave the attack order. The dozen jets imdiately locked onto the base’s buildings and fired their missiles.
Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!
Missile after missile scread through the air. Deafening explosions rocked the entire base and the surrounding area!
Franklin looked down through his canopy.
He watched as building after building was destroyed by the missiles. The control tower collapsed, the hangars were obliterated, the fuel depot exploded... the military base was instantly plunged into a sea of fire.
The soldiers who managed to escape ran for their lives in terror, not even daring to look back. The scene was like an apocalypse from a Hollywood movie.
With the hangars destroyed, Franklin’s objective was achieved.
A satisfied smile appeared on his face. He led the squadron of fighters and flew towards the prison.
.........
News that the air force base had been destroyed quickly reached the operations command.
The command center, shocked, imdiately rushed the intel to the President’s desk.
Looking at the report in his hand, the President’s face turned ashen with rage.
This series of incidents had put the President under imnse pressure. The enemy bombing an air force base was tantamount to a direct declaration of war on France.
If the French people, who were already in an uproar, learned of this, it would definitely trigger massive protests.
It was predictable that if he couldn’t kill Franklin and A-Train after suffering such a huge loss, he, the President, would undoubtedly be driven from office by the angry masses.
At this thought, the President couldn’t be bothered with reservations.
He imdiately ordered fighters from other air force bases to scramble and destroy all of the hijacked jets, at any cost.
The President’s order was effectively a death sentence for the dozen or so pilots on those planes.
Although the operations command felt this plan was sowhat cruel and inhumane, to be fair, it was the best chance they had to kill Franklin.
Although they had stolen France’s most advanced fighter jets, they had also locked themselves inside iron boxes.
Once the fighters were shot down at high altitude, their two superpowers would be completely useless for saving themselves. They would certainly die with their planes.
This was too good an opportunity to pass up. After weighing the current situation, the decision-makers at the operations command ultimately decided to carry out the President’s order.
Soon, all the air force bases closest to Paris received their combat orders. A total of over 50 fighter jets, fully ard, took off and headed for Paris to execute the mission.
.........
Unaware of the approaching danger, Franklin was piloting the Mirage fighter over the Paris skyline.
To give A-Train a "morable" thank-you gift, he looked at the urban sprawl just below and suddenly had a bold idea.
Franklin gave a sinister smile, and the Mirage, along with the squadron of other jets, imdiately dived.
The intense feeling of weightlessness made A-Train’s heart pound, and he felt extrely sick.
His face turned white, and he quickly begged for rcy, "Bro! I was wrong, I was really wrong, pull the plane up!"
Franklin roared with laughter, ignoring him completely. He focused on piloting the aircraft, skimming over the Paris tropolitan area at an ultra-low altitude.
......
Notre Da Plaza.
Locals and citizens from surrounding areas had spontaneously co to the ruins to hold a morial service.
Dressed in black, they laid flowers before the 800-year-old ancient building, their hands clasped in pious prayer for its... mourning.
Just then, a deafening roar approached from a distance.
The citizens stopped their mourning and looked up at the sky. They saw a squadron of fighter jets screaming towards them.
The jets were flying at an altitude of less than a hundred ters. They could even clearly see the missile pylons under the wings.
The citizens were instantly dumbfounded.
In their lives, they had seen plenty of fighter jets streak across the sky, but this was the first ti they had ever seen them fly so low.
Paris has many tall buildings. If one was careless or made an operational error, it would definitely an a fatal crash.
A citizen guessed, "Do you think... this is a special morial service organized by the governnt to commorate Notre Da and our fallen compatriots?"
His idea spread through the crowd and was accepted by the majority of the citizens.
Because from the current perspective, this was the only reason that could explain what was happening.
You think the jets were hijacked by terrorists?
Heh, you’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies, haven’t you?
And so, the citizens, feeling the "warmth" of their governnt, were not afraid. Instead, they waved their hands and scread at the fighter jets to show their support.
The loud cheers carried over the noise and reached Franklin’s ears.
"What are these people cheering for?" Franklin looked down through the cockpit, a little confused.
"Who cares what they’re cheering for? Just give ’em a missile to try," A-Train suggested from the back seat.
Franklin nodded. That sounded like a good idea.
So, he decisively aid and pressed the launch button.
Fwoosh!
A missile, trailing a long plu of fire, sped towards the ruins of Notre Da.
BOOM!
Along with a heaven-shaking explosion, a massive fireball rose from the ground. The last remaining remnants of Notre Da were blasted to smithereens.
The explosion in front of them left the cheering French crowd completely stunned.
No matter how naive or optimistic they were, they knew that a governnt mourning the victims would not have a fighter jet launch a missile.
Therefore, those planes in the sky must be enemy planes, or they had been hijacked by the enemy.
The citizens who snapped back to reality scattered in panic. Screams and cries echoed through Notre Da Plaza.
Franklin looked out, admiring the "beautiful scenery" below.
He smiled smugly, then pulled the jet’s nose up, returning to cruising altitude.
.........
In the warden’s office, the high-ranking governnt officials were sitting around the conference table, running scenarios for what was about to happen.
No matter how they calculated it, the end result was their victory.
The tense atmosphere gradually beca relaxed and cheerful.
Just then, the secure phone on the conference table broke the group’s noisy chatter.
The commander answered the call. It was the President.
The President, speaking extrely quickly, relayed what had happened at the air force base.
In short: the ambush plan had been compromised.
Franklin had hijacked over a dozen fighter jets and was flying towards the prison. You all need to get out of there, don’t stay in the prison.
After the call ended, the commander’s expression was grave. He was lost in a daze for a long ti.
It was as if the entire world had changed in the blink of an eye.
It wasn’t until the warden tapped him on the shoulder and asked what was wrong that he snapped out of it, nervously explaining the situation.
Learning that the prison was about to be bombed by fighter jets, everyone lost their calm and imdiately bolted from the conference room.
Receiving the commander’s urgent evacuation order, the prison guards and the soldiers lying in ambush inside the prison rushed for the main gate.
But just as they fled the prison, they heard a roaring sound from the distant sky.
The fighter squadron arrived near the prison. Franklin gave the attack order without hesitation.
In the next second, over a dozen jets fired their missiles simultaneously. The missiles flew towards the prison like a rain of death.
Missile after missile slamd into the prison’s outer walls, instantly blasting through the solid structure.
After just the first wave of attacks, the five-story-high prison began to collapse, burying all the prisoners, guards, and soldiers who hadn’t managed to escape inside.
The fighter squadron flew over the prison, made a wide circle in the sky, and fired another salvo of missiles to finish the job.
The prison ruins were blasted, filling the air with dust, shattered stone, and body parts.
After completing the second wave, the fighter squadron dived again, swooping back towards the prison.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!!!
Their cannons spat a dense hail of bullets. The guards and soldiers who had been lucky enough to survive were instantly cut down, suffering heavy casualties.
They wanted to fight back, but their firearms had already been packed up and shipped out in the armored vehicles.
They couldn’t fight, and they couldn’t run. In despair, they could only kneel on the ground and beg for rcy.
Thinking that these people might still be useful, Franklin didn’t wipe them all out. Instead, he maneuvered the Mirage fighter to a slow landing.
After the fighter stabilized, A-Train was the first to jump out.
Riding in a jet was too nauseating. Only with his feet on the ground did he feel safe.
A-Train gathered all the surviving soldiers and, after finding out Ivan’s general location, ordered them to start clearing the rubble.
Ti was tight. A-Train gave them a deadly ultimatum.
They had ten minutes to clear all the rubble, or they would all be killed, with no exceptions.
To show he was serious, he imdiately used his superpower to kill two soldiers who were slacking off.
The example worked wonders.
To stay alive, they used every ounce of their strength to clear the rubble. They didn’t dare to pause for a second, even as their hands and arms were cut and bleeding.
Ten minutes later, the passageway to the first sublevel was cleared.
Franklin waved his hand lightly, and the cell door opened.
A-Train walked inside and found Ivan toppled over, still strapped to the iron chair.
After confirming he was just unconscious and not in mortal danger, A-Train ordered the n to untie him from the chair and carry him out of the prison.
Just then, Franklin, through the radar of the jets circling above, detected a large number of fighter jets approaching.
It was obvious: this must be the force the French governnt had dispatched from other bases.
Franklin activated his power again, and the dozen or so hijacked jets imdiately scread off to intercept them.
But as he watched A-Train walk out with Ivan, he imdiately faced a dilemma.
The other jets needed a proper runway to take off, and his VTOL Mirage only had two seats.
If he took Ivan, he couldn’t take A-Train.
A-Train shoved Ivan into the back seat and smiled. "Don’t worry about . With my powers, I can easily escape."
Franklin smiled and nodded, then said, sowhat reluctantly, "Be careful, then. Co find in Detroit when you have ti!"
A-Train took a few steps back and grinned. "Definitely! You can teach how to really drive fast then."
Their simple goodbye over, the Mirage closed its canopy, slowly ascended, and then quickly vanished from sight.
A-Train waved at the sky, and then vanished from the spot as well.
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You can read advance Chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon/GreenBlue17
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