It was a stale detail that nobody wanted. The robots volunteered and the long shot was up and running. Almost as soon as it started, through an act of god, the training exercise was finished and the real world example became fourth dimension actuality.
The craft with a blindingly shiny paint job suddenly reversed, the darted away, seemingly under him before he completely lost sight of the ship. Had anyone else seen it? Where was everyone?
Frank DeLand couldn't believe what he was seeing and that was a first for him. He wasn't sure if he should tell his commanding officer that he'd witnessed a titanium plated spaceship turn on a dime and take off in the opposite direction before entirely disappearing, becoming invisible to radar, caught in his perennial blindspot, mocking his memory, causing him to doubt his own eyes. That'd never happened to Frank before and clearly, he was shaken by this realization.
Still, the conundrum remained as he landed his F57 stealth mode vulture, the air force's cloaked fighter jet that mopped up the fallen with brazen invincibility. Until today.
Sure, he'd been in attendance at the last press conference when Commander O'REILLY told the press corps that we now had cloaking capability, like the Klingons, and recovery mechanisms that literally kept our hands clean.
The raptors had been a stealth hunter. The vulture was like the Wolf in Pulp Fiction. You called him when the scenario you found yourself in became untenable. And bloody. The vulture thrived on carion, the menu no one else wanted.
Frank had to return later as duty called and couldn't be put on hold...
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