Finally, Icarus thought as he barrel-rolled through the Arctic sky. Being trapped in that ship, Icarus had felt very cramped and claustrophobic, but under this limitless expanse, he finally felt free!
Shoving another clip into his gun, he zoomed downward, picking off various wendigoes as he descended. The simian beasts seemed to be getting more and more numerous, pouring forth from the bowels of the ship almost as though two were being created for every one that got killed.
"This isn't good," Sidewinder muttered into his helmet. "There seem to be more and more of them. I can't pick 'em all off from the air."
"Then get down here!" the voice of Vanguard field leader Drake Marshall sounded in his ear. "Paragon's files said that you were in the military! Time to put your training to good use!"
"All I know is basic hand-to-hand!" the pilot said, shooting a wendigo in the back of the head at point blank range. "Besides, there's no way you'll get me to willingly get into a fisticuffs with an opponent that much bigger than me!"
Marshall was silent for a moment as his heavy sword sliced through the midsection of an oncoming yeti. His face was contorted, not from battle, but from deep thought. Finally, the leader spoke.
"Icarus, get yourself in a position where I have a direct line of sight!"
"What?"
"I've got an idea!"
The pilot elevated himself about twelve feet from the deck and hovered there, picking off any of the wendigoes he could in the process.
Slicing through another wendigo, Drake looked up at Sidewinder and levelled his left arm right at the man. As the former vigilante tightened his fist, a grappling line shot out of the top of his gauntlet, wrapping itself around Icarus' right wrist very tightly.
"What the hell?!" Icarus yelled, tugging at the wire. "What'd you do that for?!"
"Do they have clotheslines in Sweden, Icky?" Drake yelled, smashing a wendigo in the skull with the blunt edge of his broadsword.
A wry smile spread across the pilot's face as he got yet another crazy idea. This one didn't scare him as much, though. After that last one, he was ready.
Flying out a bit farther to stretch the line, Icarus suddenly took a nosedive toward the deck. All the members of Vanguard Europe stopped for just a moment to watch the pilot on his descent. Even Gaunt seemed a bit concerned about the cocksure Sidewinder.
Six feet before his face met the deck, Icarus levelled out, creating a straight line with the grappling wire around his wrist. And he began to fly towards the edge of the deck.
"Vanguard, down!" Drake yelled as the hero took off into a sprint, stabbing wendigoes as he ran... and shoving Link onto the deck to get him out of the way.
The two managed to keep a steady pace and, as the members of Vanguard Europe hit the deck (literally), the wendigoes were caught in the wire, each of them falling onto the cold metallic surface.
Looking up from the devastation the two were causing, Drake Marshall noticed a very serious problem. The two of them were nearing the edge of the ship. Quickly.
"Icarus, we've gotta stop!" he yelled, afraid to stop suddenly at the speed Icarus was going.
"No worries, chief," Icarus said, reaching over and deftly unraveling the cord around his wrist. Drake skidded to a stop, his heavily-tractioned shoes keeping him from falling overboard off of the icy deck as the pilot soared out over the water.
Looking back at the fallen wendigoes, the former NightWatch jumped back into the fray. "Excellent work, Icky!" he yelled, running a fallen yeti through the chest.
Icarus chuckled. "Where do you get all those wonderful toys?" came the pilot's voice through the all-team communicator. "I'm gonna have to put a bug in my dad's ear about that!"
Drake smiled as the pilot circled around, reloading his gun and firing off more shots at the creatures, who were slowly starting to rise once more.
"Alright!" Drake yelled into his communicator. "If you're gonna get rid of these things, Adem, now's the time!"
