Cecil pressed the button on her communicator again, but only an ear-piercing hiss of static answered her.
"Motherfucker!"
She cursed under her breath and cut the connection.
Now was no time to complain. She quickly turned to Donald, who sat at the control console.
"Nolan isn't answering. I don't believe he didn't receive the signal, unless he... Where's our air support?"
Cecil had wanted to say more, but after thinking it over, she held back anything that might undermine their unity.
Donald's fingers flew across the console as she answered without looking up.
"Air support is already on its way, but he's too fast. I'm afraid our interceptor missiles won't be able to lock onto him."
At Black-Robed Sparta's flight speed, even surface-to-air missiles, let alone the latest generation of fighter jets, couldn't guarantee a lock.
And now they were like an impotent husband, forced to watch helplessly as Black-Robed Sparta entered a human city as though no one stood in his way, without a single means of stopping him.
Bang!
Cecil clenched her right fist and slammed it into the metal console with a dull thud.
Pain shot through her entire hand, but it was nothing compared to the anxiety gnawing at her.
"If the surface-to-air missiles can't lock onto him, have the ground-based air defenses cover the entire area."
Donald's fingers stopped at those words, and she turned to look at her superior.
"Have ground forces intercept a supersonic target?"
What kind of bullshit was that?
High in the sky, a dark figure tore through the clouds, ripping through the air with an engine-like roar and trailing a long white streak behind him.
The city spread out beneath his feet. From above, the endless streams of traffic flowed like rivers along the roads.
Black-Robed Sparta hovered over