Sidwell reverently slid the Shroud of Turin from the top of the antiquated granite box, carefully folded it and placed it neatly into a lead canister mounted on the fuselage's inner wall. Baker checked the detonator at Charles the King's heels. All was ready. Bomb bay doors slowly whirred open. Code green, repeat, code green.
Blast shields down and brace for our dive.
The plane nosed downward as Doctor Garrett broadcast the countdown over their transceivers. Tail-mounted video cameras tracked the descent of the relic over the barren Nevada desert, a dwindling dark gray speck on the khaki landscape. Time seemed to dilate as the Angel Fly banked northward, clear of the anticipated blast radius. Sidwell, who had dedicated so much time, energy and money to hunting down and destroying the Prince of Darkness, was given the honor of remotely detonating the thermonuclear device. Tears stained his eyes as he thought back on the sacrifices he had made to be here now.