Finn and Anonymous heaved the pilot over behind the entrance into the tower.

“If only—” Fin grunted, “he hadn’t been…so fat.”

Anonymous shrugged and dropped his end of the man onto the hard concrete. He had happened to be holding the man’s head, but the pilot hadn’t probably felt anything after being knocked unconcious with the butt of a Beretta.

Finn wheezed. “Finally,” he said, then started towards the entrance. “Now we can follow those guys and see what they’re up to.” He opened the door and sensed Anonymous wasn’t following him. He turned around.

Anonymous was lounging in the cockpit of the helicopter, looking at him like a child asking for a toy. Finn gaped.

“You’re crazy!” he gasped. Then a twinkle came in his eye. “But I like your style.”

Finn jumped in the passenger side, adjusting the controls.

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