To Russia ... finally

I'm just done - we've been waylaid and laid low for long enough. We need to be in Russia now! I finally hit my breaking point and tell Rocket that we're just going to have to go via the Rocket Express. Turns out the drones we were worried about appear to have disappeared, and that was all we were waiting for. Okay, so maybe patience isn't my strong suit. I need to get a reign on it, because I think my strong suit has become anger. Someone much older and much wiser than I taught many of us that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering, and yes, that is the path to the dark side... Also, don't believe their lies - they do not have cookies.
 
It's literally a blur - he travels so fast that one second, you're on the outskirts of a small town in France, and the next you've arrived in yet another small town, but now you're in Russia. I won't lie, I closed my eyes, and it's a bit of a blessing the in-flight service on the XPlore plane got cancelled because I thought I was going to lose my lunch anyway.
 
We must be in the right spot, because when we arrive, the place is crawling with military hardware. Helicopters flying nearby and tanks rolling through town. Okay, what the hell am I going to do against a bloody tank? I am so getting an arse-kicking tonight - If I make it out alive it's going to hurt so bad my ancestors are going to feel it. Sandcrab identifies an underground bunker where he guesses the troops are gathered and disappears underground to check it out. Lyzen tells us she will handle the tanks, and, well, that's a bold statement from somebody who couldn't even think straight when we were in France. It's a better plan than I've got for the tanks, so I don't complain. I guess I'm in charge of the Russian airspace, and I catch them by surprise. I don't even hesitate as I look that pilot in the eye from just outside the canopy of his mechanical beast and unleash the spirits to assault his mind. What did Goose call it? "Keeping up foreign relations" - nothing like a giant middle finger to the mind as the Spirits rend it apart and I see him slump across the controls. Victory is short-lived as the man sitting next to him is also able to control the helicopter. I should have just done the same thing to him, but I am frustrated and afraid we're too late, and the anger takes over. I scream at the pilot in Russian to try to intimidate him into bugging out to save his own life, but apparently, he's just not impressed and gives no indication he's going to listen. I unleash the Soul Train against the helicopter, pummeling it with spiritual energy and send it spinning off into the distance a bit before it stabilizes.
 
I should take a lesson from the Batman movies from 20 years ago and mind my surroundings, because helicopter number two bears down on me and nearly shoots me out of the sky. That lucky sod! He presses his advantage while I'm still reeling, but I'm able to englobe myself with a wall of spirits, which is enough to stop his machine gun fire. Bad goes to worse as the first helicopter has had enough time to come back around for a strafe, and I'm pinned down between them. When a barrage of machine gun fire breaks my globe of spirits, I get the distinct feeling I'm not getting out of here alive. I'm bruised and my ears are ringing, but I'm not bleeding and if only I had a moment to catch my breath. They say it's better to be lucky than to be good - Today I say it's better to have friends than to be good. As I'm ready to throw in the towel, Sandcrab comes out of nowhere, and takes out one of the helicopters, somehow forcing it into a crash landing. For a moment, I consider the lives of the crew, but the throbbing in my side and chest reminds me I can't save anyone if I'm dead. Sandcrab, you beautiful bastard, you gave me the opening I needed. "Jesus, take the Wheel" is the lyrical inspiration for what comes next when I command the spirits to take the stick from the pilot’s hand and push it straight forward. Fortunately for the pilots, they're better at flying that thing than the Spirits are, but it only delays the inevitable, and that whirley bird crashes down into one of the last tanks.
 
Turns out the rest of the team had disabled the tanks and the soldiers, and Sandcrab had found the entrance to the underground bunker while I was playing sky-chicken with Russian hardware. The rest of the mop-up is cake by comparison, and suddenly I'm face to face with my father. I want to reach out and hug him, I want to tell him I love him and that I'm here, but I can't do that. I have to settle for dispassionately telling him that "his daughter Tori" contacted us for help, that she's safe, that she's with the Rebellion too, and that she's stronger than he may think. I've been acting for a long time, but there's no way in hell I pulled that off convincingly. Dad looked down, smiled that cocky smile of his and said a few good words that made me proud. He's leading the European resistance, and he's doing it without superpowers. That's my dad, a real hero.