[Chapter 962: Can't You See Us Flying So Low?]
Miranda Kerr felt a bit puzzled at Carter Moen's words. She knew about Air Force One, but obviously, she wasn't aware of Marine One and its helicopters.
In addition to the famous Air Force One, there was also a dedicated helicopter fleet for the President's travels. This fleet comprised two models of helicopters designed for dignitaries: the VH-3D, modified from the Sea King SH-3D, and the VH-60N, modified from the Black Hawk UH-60A.
Eric had already begun construction at two private airports, one in Ventura, North Los Angeles, and the other on Long Island in New York. He placed orders for two Boeing 747-400 and two Gulfstream V business jets as part of his plans.
Considering the distance from his estate at Liberty City to Ventura Airport was over 40 kilometers, Eric figured it made sense to acquire two helicopters for more convenient travel between Ventura Airport and either Malibu Liberty City or downtown Los Angeles.
Liberty City originally had a Bell civilian helicopter, but Eric was far from confident in the safety of civilian choppers.
Of the two VIP helicopters, the VH-3D was produced in 1976, making it quite outdated and thus unworthy of consideration. So, Eric directly ordered two VH-60N helicopters from Sikorsky Aircraft based on that model's configuration.
Naturally, some classified electromagnetic pulse protection systems couldn't be installed, and Eric wasn't interested in them anyway. He had always believed that if a nuclear war really did break out, human civilization would inevitably be doomed -- what he called nuclear protection was merely a form of self-deception.
Additionally, the federal government did not prohibit civilians from purchasing military helicopters, and the military frequently sold soon-to-be-retired military aircraft at low prices to enthusiasts of military gear. Larry Ellison, for instance, had collected two fighter jets.
As for the VH-60N, it had also been removed from the list of items banned for sale. The primary reason no one else had purchased them was simply that these helicopters were far too expensive.
A regular civilian helicopter could be bought for two to three hundred thousand dollars, and even the most expensive variant of the Black Hawk series didn't cost more than ten million dollars. Meanwhile, Eric's two VH-60Ns, even without the secret military equipment installation, still had a price tag of thirty-three million dollars each, nearing the cost of a Gulfstream V ultra-long-range business jet.
And this was just the beginning. The annual maintenance costs and expenses for hiring pilots would also add up to a significant amount.
To say that in all of America, apart from the paid-for President, very few wealthy individuals could use a VH-60N as a personal vehicle without batting an eye was an understatement. Even the federal president could only enjoy such a luxury for a limited budget during their trips each year.
...
As the VH-60N started up, Miranda immediately felt its difference.
In movies or television, all appearances of helicopters came with loud roaring sounds; pilots needed to shout to communicate with one another. But this helicopter's rotor generated an airflow that stirred up dust around it, while inside the cabin, only a gentle humming sound could be heard, barely affecting conversations.
Once the helicopter stabilized in flight, Miranda Kerr eagerly unbuckled her seatbelt and knelt on her seat to gaze out the window.
The entire Los Angeles coastline formed a curved bay. Leaving Firefly Studios near Marian Dell Bay, the helicopter flew towards Point Dume, skimming the ocean's surface the whole way.
Feeling the helicopter gusting over the sea at speeds exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour, Miranda even thought she could hear the wind whistling outside the cabin. The girl felt quite proud and pointed disdainfully through the window, saying, "Eric, look! Those houses by Malibu Beach look like little boxes. They're so ugly! Wow, I can already see the Shell Villa! That's a real house to live in!"
Eric, flipping through a book he received from Lockheed Martin, had been reading up to get into character for Tony Stark.
Without looking up, he chuckled at her comment, "I seem to recall someone just said she wanted a 'little box.'"
Carter Moen and his crew were seated in the back. Miranda, a bit embarrassed by Eric's teasing, replied, "I don't want that at all anymore."
The drive from Firefly Studios to Liberty City would take over 40 kilometers, and even without traffic, it would take about forty minutes by car. The VH-60N, traveling in a straight line at nearly 350 kilometers per hour, landed on the helipad at Liberty City in under fifteen minutes.
...
Miranda seemed a bit reluctant to leave. As they entered the villa, she affectionately wrapped her arm around Eric and asked, "Eric, if you can't join me tomorrow, can I take this helicopter to Santa Cruz Island with some classmates?"
Santa Cruz Island was just over sixty kilometers off the coast from Malibu, the largest island in California, part of a group of islands that included Santa Rosa and San Miguel. The islands had well-preserved natural environments, with nearly no residents left, making them excellent tourist spots. Eric had visited a few times.
Shedding his jacket, Eric planned to head upstairs for a shower. Seeing Miranda eagerly following him, he nodded, "Sure, but you absolutely must come back before dark."
Miranda laughed as she followed him up the stairs, saying, "I know, I'm just going with a few of my girlfriends, I wouldn't bring any crazy boys!"
Eric nodded in satisfaction, stating, "Good girl. I love smart girls. Don't follow me -- I'm going to take a shower."
"Eric, can I join you for a shower?"
"No," Eric shook his head immediately.
"You're such a coward."
Miranda continuously complained again, without knowing how many times she had expressed this. "I'll sort you out sooner or later, little imp," Eric dismissed her teasing. From the time he had spent with Drew, he had always refrained from engaging intimately with girls under sixteen. Even with frequent close contact, this boundary had never shifted. Eric didn't do this out of fear of rules or laws; he simply believed that someone who reached the pinnacle of wealth and power should maintain certain standards.
"Let's go check the kitchen and see what we have for dinner," he suggested.
"You still have to cook? You're the world's first centi-billionere!" Miranda protested. She clearly didn't share Eric's desire for experiences; if possible, she preferred being surrounded by a group of servants, doing nothing but enjoying life.
"Even a trillionaire needs to live. Do you think I should build myself a golden bed and pile thick stacks of bills on top to lay on all day doing nothing?" Eric laughed, shaking his head, then playfully slapped her on her backside, saying, "Now go on."
"I wouldn't mind having such a bed," Miranda mused, her imagination kindling as she turned to head downstairs.
...
After dinner, Miranda, now clearly a night owl, dragged Eric to the screening room to watch a movie. They watched some of Terminator 2, and by midway through, Eric could barely keep his eyes open.
Waking up in the morning, Eric rose, washed up, and prepared breakfast. He had intended to wake the girl who was still in bed, but to his surprise, Miranda appeared radiant in the dining room, holding the morning newspaper. Spending time together had given her the knowledge of Eric's morning newspaper habits.
"Eric, look at this photo! It's fantastic," she exclaimed, smiling as she unfolded a section of the Los Angeles Times, displaying a picture of the black VH-60N helicopter soaring past the waves. The headline read, "Williams' Marine One," boasting quite the sensational flair, or perhaps, sour grapes.
For several consecutive days, Eric had given only the image of the boastful modified Black Hawk helicopter to reporters waiting outside Firefly Studios. Unlike the common camouflage Black Hawks or the more municipal-looking dark green Marine One, Eric's two VH-60Ns sported a striking piano black appearance. Even printed in the low resolution of a newspaper, they still stood out beautifully.
Taking the paper, Eric pulled out a chair and sat down, saying, "Let's eat. Didn't you say you were going to the Santa Cruz Island with your classmates today? We'll go to the studio first, and you can call them from there to join you. You'll all be back in the early evening just as I return home from work."
Miranda sat beside Eric and eagerly poured some boxed juice into his cup. "I just saw two helicopters down at the hangar."
"You want to fly one out, too?" he asked.
Miranda shook her head. "No, but that would be so cool."
Eric replied, "Don't even think about it; you need to keep a low profile."
She pointed at the open newspaper, her cheeks displaying her charming dimples again. "Is this still called keeping a low profile?"
"Of course, didn't you see us flying so low?" he joked.
"Haha."
...
After breakfast, they hurried to Firefly Studios. Eric briefed Carter Moen on Miranda's plan to go to Santa Cruz Island and dashed into the filming studio to kick off the day's shoot.
The cave scenes only required Tony Stark to put on the Mark 1 armor and burst forth from the cave. Besides saying goodbye to the dying Dr. Yinsen, the rest didn't need lines, making it relatively simple. As for the action outside the cave, which showcased Tony Stark destroying Stark Industries weaponry, that would be filmed on location in the eastern California mountains.
While Eric shot in the studio, several crew members discreetly headed to Las Vegas to prepare for the filming scheduled for Monday. As Las Vegas required some outdoor scenes, the crew was extra cautious to avoid being crowded, ensuring strict confidentiality.
The morning shoot went smoothly, and as lunchtime approached, Eric finished filming the dialogue scene between Tony Stark and Dr. Yinsen. However, in the afternoon, the Mark 1 armor would be using a flamethrower. For safety's sake, the crew decided Eric wouldn't be allowed to perform the stunts, so a stunt double took his place.
Stan Winston designed the flamethrower apparatus, consisting of two hoses connected to a high-pressure oil pump, with the nozzle mounted on the armor arm. The stunt double would carry these long hoses while walking and spraying fire, which posed some danger but unlikely to threaten the stunt double's life, just risky for minor injuries.
The crew had purchased insurance for the stunt double and signed strict contracts to hold parties accountable in case of an accident, ensuring no stoppage for the production team.
Near the monitors, Eric was still in his lower-body armor, patiently watching Joss Whedon direct the stunt double, who was only half in costume, preparing for his last scene.
The stunt double's performance went off without a hitch, and after wrapping up, a group rushed in with fire extinguishers to spray down the still-burning props. Others darted in to take the armor off the stunt double and put it on Eric.
Everyone's mood was light; once the remaining scenes were finished, they would enjoy a day off tomorrow and head to the dreamland of Las Vegas the day after that. The Vegas shoot was scheduled for three days, which would certainly allow plenty of entertainment time.
Eric just needed to take down two terrorists rushing at him, then walk to the cave entrance to complete all his scenes.
"Eric, just a heads up, after filming wraps, can I keep the Mark 1 armor?" Joss Whedon, holding the director's script and looking quite relaxed, asked brightly.
"That won't work; we'll definitely need it for promotional purposes when the movie releases," Eric replied, shaking his head as he gestured for a crew member to help him with his helmet. Seeing Joss's disappointment, he smiled and added, "But once the movie comes out, you can take it home."
"Sounds good," Joss grinned, clapping his hands. He then called out to everyone, "Okay everyone, get ready! Final shot, and once it's done, you're all off work!"
Listening to Joss's excited tone, Eric smiled and started to move into position, getting ready for the scene.
*****
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