The afternoon of their departure to Argos was a flurry of activity. When Medusa and Jim arrived at the hangar, they found Veronica and the rest of the squad suiting up in their armor and performing last checks on their weapons. At the hangar's center, soldiers stood on either side of long tables lined up end to end, methodically loading their weapons and securing items into their vests and pouches.

  "Medusa, over here!" Veronica called out over the noise.

  Medusa acknowledged and slid over to her, watching as Veronica held up a tactical vest covered in pockets. "Here, put this on," she said, helping Medusa into the vest. Compared to her usual heavy armor, this was lighter.

  Veronica then gave her a belt and she secured it around her hips. "It seems to fit. Now you've got extra storage."

  "I appreciate the usefulness of these pockets, but I worry I'll forget what I put where," Medusa said, opening and inspecting each one.

  "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Now, check these out." Veronica pulled a few arrows from the quiver and held them up for Medusa to inspect. Unlike Medusa's usual arrows, these had thicker shafts and large, lemon-sized bulbs at their tips instead of the usual stone or obsidian heads.

  "These are explosive arrows, courtesy of Major Chang and his team. Handle with care."

  Medusa took one, feeling its weight. The front-heavy design would throw off her usual aim—she'd need to adjust for that.

  She looked over to see Jim preparing his vest, weapon, and a few rectangular devices. His movements were calm and deliberate, exuding an air of quiet authority that intrigued her. There was something about the way he carried himself—focused, confident, always in control.

  Her attention shifted as the rumble of approaching machines echoed through the hangar. A chariot rolled past, towing a large flying machine toward the open hangar doors. Another followed close behind. Medusa's eyes narrowed as she studied the vehicles. Helicopters, she recalled. The first few lifted off and disappeared through the open hangar doors.

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  Then two more helicopters rolled, distinct from the others—sleeker and narrower, built for just two riders. Each side displayed large cylindrical tubes, their fronts dotted with multiple openings. Those must be the rocket launchers Slater mentioned. Could such weapons truly unleash the devastation he described? The sheer potential of such destructive power sent a shiver down the entire length of her long spine.

  As the helicopters reached their designated launch pads, the chariots disconnected and rolled away. Engines rumbled to life, their mechanical growl growing louder as the rotor blades spun faster and faster, blurring into a whirlwind of motion.

  A commanding voice suddenly cut through the rising roar.

  "First Strategic Recruitment Battalion, are you ready to rock?!" Captain Slater hollered.

  "Sir, yes sir!" the soldiers bellowed in unison, their voices echoing with unwavering determination.

  "All right, move out! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

  The soldiers inside responded with a resounding "Hoo-Ah!" before swiftly moving out to their designated helicopters. Jim and Veronica motioned for Medusa to follow, and she hurried alongside them toward their aircraft. As they climbed aboard, she glanced over and saw Perseus and his group boarding a nearby helicopter.

  One by one, the squadron of eight helicopters lifted off the ground, their movements synchronized like obsidian beads strung along an invisible thread as they ascended into the sky. The formation circled the fort in a controlled sweep before heading toward the designated staging area. Below, large two-wheeled carts stood waiting, each fitted with a long, protruding tube.

  As the helicopters hovered above the peculiar machines, soldiers on the ground moved with practiced precision, securing thick ropes to their undersides. With each successful attachment, the helicopters began lifting their massive payloads, rising higher into the air, ropes stretching against the weight.

  Medusa watched in awe, amazed that the ropes could bear such loads and carry them into the sky. Four helicopters now had something in tow. As the flying crafts gained altitude, their formation gradually shifted, realigning into a loose but orderly structure. Below, Fort Bogart shrank into a distant rectangle, growing smaller by the second. The helicopters clustered into two neat rows, the two sleek lead helicopters slicing through the air ahead with the rest in close formation.