3348/A Couple of Antiques

A Couple of Antiques
Date of Scene:	09 December 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Hercules

---

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
The Andrews AFB Air Show is always popular, drawing crowds from several states away. It's a venue which features not only the latest (declassified) new planes but a wide assortment of venerable warbirds as well. One of those venerable warbirds is a captured, reconditioned HE-111 German bomber. Another is its pilot, one of the few surviving members of the Blackhawks.

Zinda Blake was asked to speak at the show because of her notoriety, but she was asked fly the HE-111 for other reasons. Primarily, the promoters felt that Lady Blackhawk would be much better behaved if she was actually flying something. And there just aren't that many qualified pilots for the Henkel bomber. The outspoken blonde arrived in style, sporting a version of her Blackhawk uniform with a skirt length that's much more suited for nose art than for recruitment posters.

After the show the pilots and presenters met for the customary drinks in the Officer's Club. That is where the -true- battles are often fought, and the most hardened of warriors meet with defeat. It's a long night, and getting longer as the younger pilots start dropping off.

Hercules has posed:
How he found his way to this port of flying machines is still unknown. Perhaps it was the group of airmen who said he would have a good time there, that was possibly a joke on him. Or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was he found his way onto the base and his way to a party.

Once there it is always the same. The people gather to have fun and eventually a contest with mortals arises. There are always those who think they can best the Lion of Olympus in drinking. Its especially enjoyable when they tag team the occasion. Sure when it's over a dozen mortals versus the Mighty Hercules, the drinks do pile up.

Its only after an hour.. or was it three, does the revelries, the drinks and the women come to an end. With his head swimming does he need a place to lay. He doesn't remember how, but he does find a comfortable place to lay his head.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake remembers the big lug, alright, how could she forget? Maybe he's the Hercules of legend and maybe he's not, but he sure did DRINK like an Olympian. Zinda was in the middle of telling some war story or another when she paused for a refill and noticed him gone. Much to her disappointment.

Truth be told, Lady Blackhawk is far from drunk tonight. After all, she still has a plane to get back to its nest. With many apologies and refusal of more than a few 'last round' shots, the blonde leaves the club for the air strip. There's the Henkel, right where she left it. She walks through her pre-flight, then climbs into the cockpit. The engines whine as they turn over, rumbling and chuffing when they catch. In a few minutes the vibrations settle down and she taxis for a long, easy take-off. "C'mon, girl. Just an easy hop and you're back home." she murmurs.

Hercules has posed:
As the plane taxis along the runway and lift off into the air, a trained pilot can feel there seems to be a bit of extra weight. Bah! It could be just some extra fuel. Its only after a few moments of climbing does a loud sound come from behind her, near the middle of the plane. It doesn't sound like your standard mechanical problem. Yes the aircraft is old girl, with the the standard creaks and groans. But this sounds like a deep grumble.. Wait is that a snore?

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
The Henkel is a slow climber, but even with the mock-up bombs she handles a bit heavy. Did they top her off with too much fuel back at the base? Zinda puts her into a wide turn and sets the course, and that's when she hears the deep rumble from in back. "What the hell...?" she mutters. Double-checking the instruments and setting the autopilot, she unbuckles and heads back. It's dark, but the plane has interior lighting rigged for the show. She flips them on, and just to be safe she draws a .45 automatic.

Hercules has posed:
With another snore and a groan a large tarp seems to come alive. Its only when the internal lights come on does it reveal the truth. There, sprawled out, lies a massive figure in the belly gunners spot. Wrapped in the tarp as if it was a blanket, the figure is sound asleep with his face pressed against the rear facing gunner window, drooling.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake pulls back the hammer on the .45 out of instinct, then she relaxes and safteys the pistol when she spots the familiar figure. "Whew! That was close." Leaning in, she takes a closer look and holsters the piece completely. "Honey, that can't be too comfortable." Crouching, she takes a hold of the man's shoulder and tries to roll him. Nothing. By using both hands as well as her legs she's eventually able to roll him onto his side. "Nnnnngh! Well, now. I wasn't expectin' they were givin' out party favors."

Hercules has posed:
As hes rolled, something causes a single eye to open. As it looks about, a normal man would shoot up confused. Instead the man continues to look about before locking onto Zinda. And thats when it happens. A smile. Not a normal smile but one as wide as the planes wingspan.

"Well the Mighty Hercules is a grand party favor to have." he says having heard her. He says nothing else, he merely continues to smile pleasantly at the backlit figure.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
It takes her a moment to figure out what he's smiling at, but then old instincts kick in. Hands on her hips, the curvy blonde in the short skirt and knee-boots returns the grin with one of her own. "At least you ain't dead. Though after all that tequila I wasn't sure -where- you'd gotten to." She crouches down beside him, knees together, and runs fingers through those brown curls. "This is just a short hop, sugah, then I've gotta land the plane. You just rest here and we'll figure out how to get you up. Maybe they've got block and tackle or somethin'."

Hercules has posed:
Hercules continues to watch her with a smile, even as she messes with his hair. But there is something bothering him. Land the plane. He thinks to himself. Land the plan? The phrase replays over and over in his head. Thats when, out of the corner of his eye he looks towards his windowed pillow.

"By Zeus!" he says under his breath. He isn't afraid of heights mind you, but this is his first flying vehicle ride. And it is due to this revelation that it won't take a block and tackle to get him up. He stands quickly bumping his head and bouncing off into the fair pilot of the craft before him

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake steps back quickly enough to keep from being knocked down by the big man when he crashes to his feet. "Easy, Honey! Just settle down, and everything's gonna be all right." At least she holstered the pistol, but now she just might have a wild bull on board the plane. Perfect. Maybe she could still shoot him anyway.

Gesturing towards the bombadier's seat, she offers. "It'll be better if you sit down. I've done this thousands of times, I promise. Just as natural as fallin' off a horse."

Hercules has posed:
"My apologies." he says to her softly. He holds his head low as not to hit anything else. With his head held low it betrays his full height, as he shifts his body to look around. Ashis eyes return to her he offers her another smile.

"I have fallen off my fare share of horses." he remarks as he looks at her, well looks her over. "This is my first time in of these flying planes." he admits as he glances out one of the windows into the dark. "And it is something to behold."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake relaxes visibly when the big man shows no signs of immediately destroying the back of the plane. The smile returns and she tips the pilot's cap. "Well if you want, the view's a whole lot better up front." Her gaze dips, perhaps sizing him up. Or maybe to emphasize those long, bare legs of hers.

Offering a gloved hand to him, she adds. "Zinda Blake, last of the original Blackhawk Squadron. You're welcome to join me if you think you can squeeze yourself into the copilot's seat." Pausing then, the smile becomes a bit sassy and she adds. "Just promise you won't touch anything."

Hercules has posed:
Taking her gloved hand he kisses the top of it in greeting. "Hercules." he offers her in return as he releases her hand, even though he doesn't need to. "Do not worry. I will not touch a thing." he adds following her to the front, watching her all the way, only to stopping at the cockpit entrance.

Hes quiet for a moment as he thinks. His gaze bouncing between the windows and her. Then he speaks "So what makes you the Last of these Blackhawks?" he asks her softly. A grand difference to the boisterous figure he makes himself out to be around others.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake slides into the pilot's seat with practiced ease, taking a quick glance over the gauges as she puts on the headset. She buckles in, and only then turns to look back at him. "Have a seat, Sugah. It's a bit of a story. I joined the Blackhawk Squadron during the War. Stole a Ford Tri-Motor to find their base, but was captured by the Germans. Drank half the base under the table, then stole a '109 from them. Flew with 'em long enough to show my worth, then flew as one of 'em until after the War."

She pauses to switch off the autopilot and take the yoke. "What makes me the LAST of the Blackhawks is a bit more complicated. I went down over the Pacific in September, 1945. The short version is that I was put on ice until just recently. Don't know exactly how; I just know that I'm back."

Hercules has posed:
He knows what its like to be out of place in the world. And knows of a few others. But when the world only remembers you through stories and moving pictures. Yeah he knows how it feels.

As he attempts to take a seat he looks at her. "My condolences." he says, but it doesn't take long for the somber attitude to melt away. It begins with his eyes remaining on her, only to playfully glance out the window before going back to her. And the smile, oh that grand smile of his, returns. "So where are you ferrying me off too fair pilotess?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda Blake offers another smile, her natural bouyancy tempered by the tone of the conversation. "To a small airfield in New York State where I can put this old girl to bed." She's talking about the plane, right? She turns the wheel slowly, pushing the yoke forward gently to start the descent.

Glancing periodically to the instruments, she looks often at her stowaway passenger. "So y'all are REALLY Hercules? I mean THE Hercules, like from the Greek stories and all that stuff? I mean you DRINK like a Greek god, but it seems just... too good to be true. Y'know?"

Hercules has posed:
The large man chuckles. "I am he. I even have the tee shirt, as the modern mortals would say. Whatever that means." he admits to her. Then a single brow rises. "Why would I be too good to be true?" he asks her curious. "There are other gods walking the planet, like Thor, yet when I claim who I am people are cautious. It makes no sense."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda's gaze flickers again as she banks the bomber, flipping three switches on the console. There's a trio of grinding sounds in the back of the plane as the gear lowers. "Yeah? Well I ain't ever met any of -them-, Honey. Our field's gettin' real close, now, and I've gotta chat with the tower so's we don't scare anybody." She pauses to flash him another one of those grins before adding. "Then you think maybe y'all could buy a lady a drink...?"