"It shouldn't have happened, it's not part of the plan. Words * love * first * hair http://www.Klxsw.com

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Bill, the wolf, lay on the ground covered in dust and broken bricks, his palms covered in cracks and blood. The fracture of his left forearm, multiple abrasions all over his body, and a blow to his chest did not cause him pain. However, only the right arm, which had been amputated a long time ago and did not exist at all, made him feel unbearable pain.

Phantom limb pain has been tormenting him. There is an extension of his consciousness, and it is an amplification of his sense of touch. He was suffering a hundred times his weight. It is no exaggeration to say that this severe pain can indeed be quantified, because the right arm is attached to the F36 fighter with a maximum take-off weight of 10 tons, and it is part of Bill's body.

The landing gear of the F36 was not released, and it was directly slapped on the ground without any cushioning, and the entire chest was dented in, and the hydraulic oil of the front cabin control continued to seep out of the crack like blood. It lay in pain and misery in front of Bill, gasping for breath. The short suction sound is the emergency power system of the aircraft working, barely inhaling to keep the electrical equipment of the whole machine working.

After a few slight mechanical actuation noises, the photoelectric turret in the nose of the F36 swirled and pointed at Bill. It's like looking at him with its beautiful eyes. The eye was still burning with flames, and it wanted Bill to look at himself and give himself strength.

Bill Springs, who had never been so painful, opened his mouth, inhaled, and shouted loudly: "Get up, take me up"

The F36 fighter received the order, and there was a sharp glint in his deep, flooded eyes. Like a fish jumping ashore, it struggled violently again. The emergency power system activates the main power, and the high-tolerance engine emits a high-pitched whistling. The low-pressure fan drove the aircraft's attitude control nozzle to continuously spray high-speed airflow, trying to twist the fuselage and re-launch into the air.

However, its right wing collapsed completely, and the air flow pipes in the wing continued to shake, further smashing the main wing structure.

The fighter completely lost the ability to lift the right fuselage, but it had to fight with all its might and insist on getting up. The fuselage structure began to creak horribly, like bones breaking. The F36's air intakes were spurring, and the whole fuselage was trembling and shivering, which was really sad. The f36, which lost its balance, rolled over and fell to the ground again in two clicks. This time its jaw and air intake were completely crushed, the air intake cavity was dented and deformed, it could no longer swallow air, and the engine let out a terrible roar.

"it, get it up for me." Bill was still growling. This was not a plan, he would never harm this fighter. Bill loved it, spent all his time and a lot of money on it, and pinned his hopes on endless emotions and boundless hopes. The F36 is the best, the greatest fighter, and that's part of Bill.

F36's nose was completely inserted into the dirt, and the debris inhaled from the air intake was smashing the cavity everywhere. It didn't have any strength, just a feeble moan. The only strength he had was to drive the beautiful eyes on the front nose to glare at Bill as if he could speak.

"Damn why, why don't you get up"

Bill roared in rage, great pain building up in his chest, burning him from within like flames, and the pain made him scream incessantly.

Suddenly, he was struck on the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

Someone knocked him down with the butt of a gun.

Bill's consciousness was still clear, and he looked back to see that things were exactly as he expected. Not far away, a V22 Osprey tiltrotor plane in a hot state was parked, and civilian armed men disguised as refugees gathered in a circle. The person who walked in front of him was none other than the right-hand man of the president of the Pan American Entente, Tromp, and the accountant Bremerton.

Mr. Accountant's posture with a gun is not very professional and a bit ugly. He handed the rifle to the man next to him and spat at the wolf, "That's enough, Bill, that's enough." Your fighter's main spar is broken, you know, you can't move, this thing is finished. He took off his glasses as he spoke, lowered his head and wiped them with a handkerchief, "My professional building is scrapped, and the money for repairing it is better to buy a new one, you say of course, provided that you still have money after a while." ”

After speaking, the accountant beckoned the armed personnel next to him to come over, and pointed to the back of the F36 fighter's closed cockpit and the upper position of the neck: "Scrapped." ”

Dense gunfire rang out, and the flames burned Bill's face.

The armed men fired at the back of the neck of the F36, the central processing computer and electronics contained in the cabin, the equivalent of a human brain, at the orders of the accountant.

Shooting incessantly, frantically and relentlessly spraying ammunition, bullets piercing through the F36's skin, mashing structures, and nearly ripping its skull open. All the sophisticated equipment inside was shattered, the emergency power system was destroyed, and the only remaining hydrazine hydrate fuel spewed out, completely melting the F36's main computer into a scorched black mass like sludge.

It's completely dead.

The once beautiful eyes were round and open, tarnished, and looked dry and gray, the color of death.

Bill shouted loudly, hoarsely, and no one could understand what he was shouting.

The sound traveled far and wide, and it was heart-wrenching.

Far away, Casey Green suddenly stopped.

She looked up: "Bill"

Could that be Bill's voice, impossible.

Casey thought so. At this time, Bill must be acting according to the plan he said, and it is impossible to be around here. She also quickened her pace, and had to hurry to help Bill complete the plan. Just now, Bilton guòf36 said to himself: "I have no one else but you." ”

Bill's explanation was not easy, it was terrible. Casey followed Bill's instructions and walked into a place she had never thought of and would never think of again. It was an underground passage, dark, damp, and smelling like a place full of rotting dead rats and droppings, but Casey was going to be sent to that place today, wearing what she thought was the best evening gown and crystal-encrusted heels for Bill. As she walked forward, she could clearly feel the slimy dirty water seeping into her shoes and scraping onto the tops of her feet.

Bill was telling the truth, and the only person he could rely on was Casey.

Casey managed to walk through the tunnel and into the corner. There was no emergency flashlight, and it was pitch black. Even though Casey is a good all-weather pilot, he needs a low-light environment to discern things. Now not even the slightest bit of light can penetrate it, even a big-eyed owl can't help it.

She felt for the wall, her hands stained with something disgusting that might have been a spider's web, and she barely managed to find the combination lock next to the door. Follow Bill's password and enter it on the nine-key panel. Casey thinks Bill is old-fashioned and actually uses her birthday as a password.

"It still works."

The combination lock only lights up green after it has been entered correctly, and it is like a calculator that has run out of power. Inside, the stairwell is lit up, and the roar of the generator and the whistling of the ventilation duct can be heard in the depths.

Casey walked up the stairs and inside, there was a cloister and wooden door that looked like it was from the nineties. The air from the ventilation system made Casey feel chills, and she walked forward against the wind, feeling a little scared. In Casey's experience, it's possible that this is an underground bunker built during the Cold War, and it may have been renovated in between. She never knew that Prince had an underground palace.

Suddenly the eyes opened up.

"It's not going to be the Operational Charges Center, God, it's a CRT monitor." Casey saw a lot of things that you would have to read in literature like the history of computers. "I hope it still works."

The main power is already on, and all she needs to do is turn on the core communication system. For Casey Green, who had received full training as a carrier-based fighter pilot, air command and control training, and fleet coordination operations in the former US Naval Air Force, none of this was a problem. The only difficulty was that the old switches were too stiff and dirty.

The entire command and control center was gradually activated, and some of the monitors were still monochrome displays, scattering green and green light. The outside of the spliced glass curtain wall in front of it is also lit up, completely illuminating the entire space.

Casey looked up and looked through the glass wall covered with thin earth in front of him, and the center of the accusation appeared to be facing a large hangar with nothing in between but various crates and wooden tables scattered around it. She squinted her eyes and could tell from her experience that there had been something here, a rectangular area in the middle of the dust on the ground that was very clean, almost spotless, like an invisible shipping container. You can also see a few lines of clear tire marks next to it.

"Something was taken away." Casey muttered to herself.

She didn't know that this space was where the head wolf Bill brought Wang Xiangzhu. The wooden man in the center of the remote-controlled terminal prototype cabin has long since disappeared, and even the motorized power supply car is gone.

Behind Casey, there is a sound that the system has been activated.

She didn't have time to care about what was lost there, it was important to get down to business, and first she had to make full use of Prince's backup accusation system, as the head wolf said.

The projector is lit up, and the airspace in the southern part of the United States is projected on the screen, but unfortunately there is no number, and all the signs are illuminated. The entire system of Prince has been completely destroyed, and it is impossible to transmit radar count information.

Casey walked up to the projector and saw that the refractor reflected the glowing battle table in front of him, like a chessboard, with many small airplane cakes of various colors placed next to it. She picked up the long pole next to her, like a plough for bulldozing. The putter seemed to be flattening, and she used the head of the club to pull the little red airplane round cake over, "This, it's really primitive." ”

The megaphone rang: "Wolfsburg, do you have it?" I'm a squad of 3 districts 12 with strict interference. Repeat, Wolfsburg please answer"

Wolfsburg was the code name for the Princes Headquarters' Accusation Operations Center, and communications were finally established.

These archaic devices not only worked, but were even unrecognizable by the Pan American Concord's fully electronic system. Now we have to rely on them.

Casey was just about to answer, when another communication voice came: "What's the matter, this is the 5th Commando, Wolf Castle, answer immediately, we are running out of gas, we can't locate it, and we suspect that there is electronic interference." Repeat: "The scattered ranks of the Prince Military Company in the states have lost their unity of command and are scurrying like headless flies."

She hurriedly walked back to the microphone position: "Each department reports the position." This is Wolfsburg, return your position. ”

"Who are you, what's going on at headquarters." I don't know which branch asked.

"Wolfsburg, I'm Casey Green, and I'm giving you orders at the New Accusation Center. Wolfsburg is under attack, report your location immediately. ”

The coordinates of several scattered units were read out, Casey took a long-handled putter and pushed the small plane cake onto the battle table, and the projector showed the entire combat situation. She fiddled as she listened to the report: "Hell, this is like commanding the Battle of Britain." ”

According to these Princes, the position and speed of the various scattered troops were determined, and the situation did not get better.

Casey looked at the combat situation, and the available forces with fuel left were very limited. Some units also witnessed the movement of the strategic aircraft group of the Northern Army; The J-15 fighter of the Central Continent Peacekeeping Volunteer Team is also inexplicably missing one.

"Bill." She said to herself, "It's a hard plan. ”

At this time, Bill had been dragged onto the V22 Osprey by the men commanded by Bremerton's accountants, and the wind from the huge rotors was blowing sand and rocks everywhere.

"Not yet, not yet." He muttered to himself, "Plan, it's not time yet." ”

Mr. Accountant smiled vividly, "Bill, you're completely finished." ”