Landing the B-52 was like landing a village. Damien piloted while Sally assisted. The runway was not large enough to accommodate the plane, but they made it work. As soon as they parked, Seymour greeted them.

“It’s good to see you, Sally,” Seymour said.

“I’m glad to be home. It was awful in there,” Sally said.

“Prison is not fun, but you protected the family. I’m glad you got out of there with your dignity intact,” Damien said.

“Damien!” a gruff voice called.

He looked over to see Stuart Norris running toward them.

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“What’s on your mind, Stu?”

“We’ve got word on the location of the compound.”

“The doctor’s?”

Norris nodded.

“Good. It will be nice to put a stop to that madman,” Damien said.

“What doctor?” Sally asked.

A cybernetic doctor responsible for gassing half of New York. First, he unleashes a hideous radioactive monster in midtown, then he uses helicopters and drones to spray innocents with a neurotoxin.

“That’s awful. We should bring gas masks, then. Where is the good doctor holed up?” Sally said.

“The doctor is in the heart of Manhattan. It will be hard to hit him there, so we will take out his gas-making operation.”

“Where’s that? I hope it’s not in a populated area.”

“It’s in a remote area up north. We should be able to drop some cruise missiles on the camp before they know what hit them.”

“What’s our time horizon?”

“Twenty-four hours, give or take.”

“Then we had better start planning,” Sally said.

“Get some sleep while I confer with Norris and Seymour. It is critical that everything goes as planned.”