Carl sat in the helicopter watching the mountain side, he had been on these rides often, but this was the first time he was in gear and black fatigues, pulling his body armour vest over his chest and buckling a utility belt filled with his various weapons around his waist he checked the group he was travelling with. To anyone else, they looked like a modern-day tactical team, but Carl had seen these people in action. They skillfully combined their old fighting methods with modern-day combat skills and martial arts. Definitely, a force to reckon with and if you didn't surrender, they took no prisoners. However, there were times they took no prisoners regardless of what may happen, but that decision was rarely made.

"What is the difference between these warriors and those in the mountain?" Stan asked.

"Although the ones in the mountain will give their lives to defend and protect those inside the mountain," Carl said, "they have restrictions which only allow them to go to a certain point in the fight."

"Restrictions? Like what?" Stan asked.

"They are not permitted to wear anything but their leather war gear," Carl said, "they are not permitted to train with, own or fire a gun of any kind," he shrugged at their incredulous expressions, "it is to keep the purity of the world they defend."

"How did these people end up out here?" Jeff asked.

"Garan, Cherry's father, is part of the people assigned centuries ago to protect the heritage of Rilea's people," Carl said, "Rilea is Cherry's mother. They fell in love, and since they ruled both people, Garan married Rilea making the two people one. We met when I visited my family home ... or what is left of it ... many years ago," Carl sighed, "long before either of the girls was even thought of ... Garan could see how the world was changing and needed to have something in place that would continue to protect their heritage even after they were gone."

"So he chatted with you and got the whole thing arranged," Stan said, "you took some of his people and trained them in tactical warfare, and he kept the purity of everything in the mountain. The people on the outside are without restrictions. They can defend their heritage against anything the world can throw at them."

"They are indeed beyond elite," Carl said, nodding, "it is as you say. Their commander changes with every mission, so there are fresh eyes on a mission, everyone gains experience, and the training for every mission is different. Each group has a different mission to the others, different entry points... everything is unique to each group."

"We're heading in one direction while the other helicopters are going in the same direction but not to the same point on the mountain," Jeff said, "am I correct?"

"Yes, but on this one, we're heading to the same point, but the groups will be entering the same place at different points," Carl said, "you'll see when you get there."

Hand signals from the present team's leader flew in the air.

Carl grinned, "That is the other thing," he nodded in the leader's direction, "they mix old and new ways; this is old. Everything is communicated in hand gestures; each gesture could mean a word, sentence, or action. It all depends, and the team have to pay attention."

"What are the instructions?" Jeff asked.

"This team is being dropped in from the high ground," Carl said, looking surprised, "and we're dropping into the fight zone from above. Anyone with the Tenderhooks is to be terminated ..." his words drifted off.

"What?" Jeff asked.

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Carl looked around at the waiting team; he sucked in his air, "They are not letting anyone live who can continue the Tenderhook work. Anyone with them is to be terminated with lethal force."

"I feel like I'm heading to a butchers convention," Stan said, checking his weapons and extra ammunition, "what are the other teams going to do?"

"Only the mission commander knows," Carl said, "each team does what they are instructed, and if anything needs to change, the commander gives the orders while in the field."

"Different way of doing things," Jeff said, "sounds like a good mix of old and new."

"It is," Carl said, "I've seen these guys pull off some amazing things doing missions in our world. They have gotten it perfect and now can use it to defend and protect their own world."

"Which team are we with?" Stan asked.

"They are called Equipo Central," Carl said, chuckling at their confused expressions, "it means Central Team."

"So we follow any command involving Central Team," Stan nodded, "what if the command is given in ..." he paused, "whatever the language is they speak other than English."

Carl grinned, "Then half of us would be confused," he chuckled, "all commands are given in English; that is necessary as each person is in a different place of learning, as you put it, the other language," he stopped speaking as the team leader stood suddenly with hand to the communications unit inside his ear, "something's up."

"Central Team," he called over the noise of the blades, "we will be dropping into our allotted area to irradicate those attacking our world, kin and brethren," he glanced around, including Carl, Stan and Jeff with his gaze, "mountain team is changing course and will be engaging with the stream of attackers coming up from the base," he paused, "they will be cutting off the flow mid-way," inhaling he continued, "base team will be finding the source of the flow and irradicating whatever is found there."

A fisted right hand rose, and the leader acknowledged the request to speak.

"What of the woman and children," a female voice asked, "it is not our custom to murder the innocent."

"If women and children are found along with experiments, they will be taken to a holding centre where a decision will be made on their own merits," the leader said, "anything else?"

General shakes were seen, and the leader nodded, glancing over his shoulder as the pilot signalled him.

"We are arriving in one minute," he shouted, "make ready, Alpha section, you will drop and veer right, going over the edge to assist our defending brethren; help them as they are restricted and are giving their lives against these abominations. Beta section, you are to veer left and drop into the fighting; your task is to protect Rilea and Garan ... yes, they are in the fray, and Rilea will be required for the heritage handover. Gamma section set up along the top of our back door and take out any snipers you can find, then aim your fire at the bridge, the entrance and anything that may stop us from success. Are you clear on these changes?" Fisted right hands rose in silence, "Good, let us save our world ... we are designed to survive."

"We are designed to survive," the brethren answered in unison.

"Carl, what does that phrase mean?" Jeff asked, "I heard Sam saying it when we met up with her, Stan and our witness."

"You'll have to ask them," Carl said, "perhaps you'll be able to meet the person who designed them to survive and the reason the Tenderhooks want inside."

"Looks like we're here," Stan called, "ready for action?"

"Damn straight I am," Carl said, checking his gear and getting ready to drop out of the hovering helicopter.

"It's payback time," Jeff said.

Stan grinned as he followed the team onto a large stone platform overlooking everything around them. Landing, he crouched, watching the brethren split into groups and head into the sickening cacophony of noise below. Stan blinked disbelievingly, taking in the smell of blood, death and discharged weaponry. Rising to his full height, he could easily see the entrance from where he stood. Heavily armed bodies streamed through the opening like a never-ending line of ants on a mission of devastation.

"May God have mercy on our souls," he whispered, as the added onslaught of the new arrivals could be heard below, "these people will never stop," his gaze travelled toward the bridge. That may be the only way of cutting off the stream heading toward the back door; his travelling gaze happened on a dazzling blink on the opposite side, adrenaline kicked in, and he dropped and rolled out of the way of sudden sniper fire, automatically pulling his gun from his holster, "fine ... eradication it is."