Barely avoiding yet another projectile from her phantom pursuer as she rounded a corner at full speed, nearly tripping over herself in her haste; Helen was vaguely aware of where her maddened dash was taking her: Towards the hangars. In her fear and panic induced hysteria, she had the idea that if she somehow managed to get aboard a TSF or the Gundam prototype, then she might be able to defend herself. She was not exactly competent in fighting on foot, and she had come to learn the hard way that the most straightforward path to the alarms was blocked off by other spooks, who took the time from whatever horrible things they were doing to take potshots at her from a distance.
With her only option being the hangar, Helen was forced to sprint in that direction, barely avoiding certain death several times, much to the frustration of her furtive pursuers. If there was anyone else to see this, they would most likely call it a series of flukes.
As another silenced gunshot is heard, this one being just barely avoided as Helen ducks with a hand on the back of her head to brace, and the bullet whistling over her head and striking at the metallic door of the hangar with a loud clanging noise and sparks, she finally made it to the hangar. There was the fear of being surrounded, for the building only really had one exit. And it was dark. She knew very well that the pursuers were waiting by the sides of the entrance she just took, ready for her to come out and pump her full of lead. It was the point of no return. She had to get to the helm of the Gundam.
Unfortunately for Helen, just as she was about to reach the foot of the her machine, she ends up running face-first into nothing, nearly knocking her into the floor. Before she could even scream in terrified confusion, an invisible hand wraps itself around her throat, turning her yell into a pitiful, wheezing rattle as she was lifted into the air, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets from the extreme pressure and grip strength of the phantom killer, who had evidently arrived before her.
Watching in terror as an ebony blade suddenly materializes out of nothingness as it approaches her chest, she lashed out with wild kicks at her attacker. Futilely, as the monster wasn't at all bothered by her struggles as it brought the blade to bear and presses it against her solar plexus before speaking to her in a rumbling, frigid baritone.
"Good night, little monkey..."
And then the fiend slowly slips the edge in, causing Helen's vision to go red from the sheer pain and fear she was experiencing. It took all that she had in her not to faint then and there. She was helpless. Was there truly anything else for her to do other than wait and accept her own death?
As the blade now penetrated deep into her, tearing deeper into her diaphragm and stomach, Helen couldn't help but stare into the near-opaque helmet of her assailant, who by now decided that there was no longer any need to hide by turning off its cloaking field. Despite not being truly able to see their face, she somehow knew that they were making eye contact. Helen with her fragile, terrified and tear-streaked stare and the assassin narrowing its eyes in sick, sadistic enjoyment at the act of giving a slow and painful death to someone who it considered as an inferior being.
Its decision to play with its food costed the spook however, for the assassin suddenly screams in pain and shock as crackling arcs of electricity cascaded through its malfunctioning armor as its wristblade was painfully removed from Helen's stomach and forcing it to let go of the woman as the fiend seized and shook, sinking to its knees with a heavy thud as it collapses on all fours. A guardian angel had delivered an incapacitating shock to the stealthy invader's body and electronic systems.
Helen herself collapsed the instant her feet touched the ground. Both hands covering the deep stab wound on her stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding that was now staining the entirety of her uniform shirt. Her savior- A tan skinned female with a very loud fashion sense and equally eye-catching hairstyle that screamed cyberpunk- Crouched by her side. With gentle movements, she removed Helen's hands from the wound and rubbed some form of first aid ointment on it. A blue gel with bio-electrolytes of a similar texture as toothpaste to hard stimulate blood clotting on the wound.
"I know it hurts, but double time it soldier!" The mechanic said, throwing Helen's right arm over the back of her neck and lifting her off the ground as she tried to get herself and the injured pilot into the Gundam.
Unfortunately for the two women, the spook wasn't incapacitated for long and hurriedly scrambling to its feet, a harsh crack echoed throughout the hangar as the fiend fires a high-velocity slug from a gun built into its right wrist armor at its prey. Much to its frustration however, the shot went wide; ricocheting off the foot of the Gundam with a shower of angry sparks. Angrily smacking the side of its helmeted head, no doubt a futile and ill-informed attempt to force whatever HUD its helmet was displaying to stop malfunctioning after getting short-circuited by Helen's guardian angel, it fired another shot, this one much closer to the mark and grazing the punk woman's shoulder.
Biting back a curse in Spanish at the wound, the dark-skinned woman temporarily lets go of Helen to try and put a stop to the spook from firing another shot by shooting out a bolt of psionic lighting from her fingertips at the assassin; which to her bewilderment, managed to swerve out of the way despite how fast the jolt had been going. In this case, she had to go with the next best thing: To grab a hold of Helen once more and send out more electrical bolts at the assassin. Once more, those bolts were avoided, but they forced the assassin to take cover behind a piece of equipment with the continuous attack, suppressing him for long enough for the two to get to the foot of the Gundam where the mechanic quickly, if desperately gets the cockpit to open up by accessing an emergency release panel before getting into a brief gunfight with the fiend, waiting for the cockpit winch to lower down to their level.
Frustrated by its inability to dispatch its foes, the spook stops exchanging fire with the punk to instead grab a nearby tool cabinet and hefting it over its head with inhuman strength, throws it at her; forcing her to tumble out of the way as the fiend then took the opportunity to race through the hangar floor to close the gap and rip her apart in melee. But it wouldn't get the opportunity to do so, as the two women were already ascending on the winch and seeing this, it takes a few more desperate but ultimately futile potshots with its wrist gun at its targets, watching helplessly as the cockpit hatch seals shut.
"Let's put on a show, shall we, chica? Name's Gabriela by the way. Can call me Gabi." She said, calmly resting Helen on the piloting seat and aiding with turning the white devil's systems on in the control panel.
"Kind of ironic. The stupid ass V-fin is getting their saving grace, for what it's worth. About damn time."
While Helen and Gabriela still couldn't see the spook's face, it was clear from its body language that it was utterly shocked and dismayed at the sudden role reversal. However, it didn't immediately bolt for cover, even as the Gundam's vulcans began to spool up. Instead it grabs something from its belt... A detonator and with no hesitation, it pushes the trigger, consuming everything inside the hangar in a massive fireball...
"Gungnir team, status report." One of the mysterious infiltrators demands.
"The show has started far ahead of schedule and Gungnir 7's vitals have flatlined. Requesting permission to proceed with the rest of the performance and the deployment of the Jotun and the Arbalester element."
"Acknowledged, Jotun and Arbalesters will make landfall shortly. Gungnir team, daggers free.
As the Gundam goes on a rampage to fend off and scatter the hidden assassins, Gabriela takes it upon herself to grab a hold of the microphone and letting Helen focus on what she was doing. Suddenly, the mobile suit's loudspeakers blare crackle to life with her voice amidst the roaring flames and explosions.
"Hello? This damn thing working? Good. So... Hi! We're just passing by, don't mind us. Do, however, mind the malparidos doing a number on the base right about now. They'll make it worth your time, I can guarantee you that."
Helen mutters an audible phrase from the corner of her mouth. "Y-You're not helping...!"
The Wing Freedom's pilot receives a near immediate answer. Although the Gundam's assault against the foreign invaders did not cease, a side camera was turned into their robot. What comes through the radio was the hispanic woman's frustrated grunt before actual speech.
"Huh? Oh God fucking damn if your clique of yankee stinky dogs went out of their way to set this up on us. What're you doing here? Enjoying the show?" Gabriela scowled.