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The Forgotten Scars of Cherry Hill

You wouldn't believe a Preacher capable of extreme violence. You wouldn't believe a small business owner to have such frivolous connections, and you wouldn't expect a black pilot high above the neon light streets of a cyberpunk city, let alone keeping a WW2 Legacy alive. You wouldn't expect a showgirl to give our prayer requests either. All of these people wouldn't normally connect or even run in the same circles, but when a tyrannical corporation decides to seize control of the world, It'll take a crack team in this Dystopian-Cyberpunk Indiana Jones world of theirs to stop this corporation.

Ghost_of_Ottawa · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
8 Chs

A Normal Day, Not So Normal

It had been a month since the incident in New Shanghai. Everyone had moved into the area surrounding Tuskegee Field. Business had been pretty normal, Earhart was now flying fully passenger flights out of Tuskegee Field using the Tri-Motor Ford, Sensei Light had a much nicer dojo and had been working hard to spread his influence of peace. Reverend Everett had taken up residence in an old chapel partridge. His sermons were reaching more people than before with his old parish. Matilda and her girls had set up their brothel and hair salon businesses nearby the airfield. 

It seemed everything was returning to normal. That was until one day...

Hey Earhart, just got a letter, looks super official. 

As did I. Seems things can't just stay normal.

The other two joined Earhart and Light all holding official letters as well. Opening them, the message sent chills down their spines.

Hello everyone. My name is unimportant, but let's just say you have caught my eye. I don't deal in disappointment. Color me impressed that a Tuskegee man, a Sensei, a Preacher and a Whore could work together to throw a wrench in my very important cogs of my important plan. Be sure not to disappoint me, I'd hate to see what the bring you. I watching eager anticipation. Sincerely, ~ RR

The four took a moment to collect their thoughts. 

RR? We know anyone with those initials? 

No, but they are everywhere. From the food, to the cars, to the VR gear. Whoever RR is, definitely has money and power in spades. 

We need to have a plan just in case RR shows up here. We can...

Before they could continue the sound of explosions rattled the ground. Rushing outside, soldiers were in the streets. New Shanghai was making their move on Marawa, and the Marawa soldiers didn't stand a chance. Tanks, and Shuttles rained fire upon the city. To the Corporate Elite of New Shanghai, the citizens of either city were expendable and acceptable casualties. 

Earhart, what do we do?

Pull injured Marawa soldiers inside! I've gotta get in the air. If they crater the airfield, we'll be trapped here!

Revered Everett and Earhart rushed to the P-51 hangar. Earhart was doing to have to prove he was worth the Tuskegee's Legacy now more than ever. Meanwhile, Sensei Light, Matilda and the other showgirls helped pull injured soldiers inside. As Sensei Light reached a soldier, he body had be hit by a mortar, and in his hand he was clutching a piece of paper. It read partly, "Lots Forever" but the rest was covered in blood. 

Back with Earhart, the P-51 had hit the skies and was already proving to be a menace. The six .50 caliber machine guns were ripping apart shuttles and New Shanghai Corporate soldiers. As for dealing with the tanks, the P-51 had been fitted with six unguided rockets. They weren't strong enough to penetrate the armor, but they were strong enough to toss a tank on its side. Flying low and faster were something Earhart had trained to do. He held the mantle of The Last Tuskegee Man so he and footsteps to fill. 

As the day dragged on, Marawa's CEO found a way to fight back. The counterattacks lasted all day. Any ground the New Shanghai soldiers gained had been lost, and yet the fighting persisted. Earhart had landed and refueled at least a dozen times. He'd spend upwards of several belts of the carried nine-yards of .50 ammunition. He and everyone else were exhausted. One of the soldiers was up helping tend to the other injured. 

Thanks for the air support.

The name's Earhart. 

Like Earhart the retired 23 year old air racer?

Yep, that's me. 

Well, I'm glad you had our backs up there. Got anything else that flies here? 

Just a 29' Tri-Motor Ford. No guns, but never need to have em. 

Well, that might come in handy. The name is Simms, but everyone here calls me Red-Eye.

Well then Simms, you have any flight experience?

I do. Old school and New school. 

Good. That may yet prove useful. 

As the battle raged on, a man stood up, slamming his cane on the hard oak floors of his manor. 

Croxby, get my zeppelin ready. The small corporations need to be reminded of what I can do. 

At once my lord. What about ground forces?

No. We're going to level their cities until nothing is left standing. 

With a wicked grin and the sounding of his cane, the man wisped past his butler, his coat tails never touching a wall, his top hat and suit well maintained. His monocle glinted in the dark hallway as he made his way to the airship.