Fandom Ace Combat: Belkan Civil War (IC)

[Jackson123]

The year is 2025. This is a period of civil war in Belka.

The Principality of Belka was reformed into a constitutional monarchy as a Kingdom, with the lineage from the Royal House of Ludwig being restored to the throne, the Kingdom of Belka is now under the reign of Queen Marie Frederike Ludwig.


(National flag of the Kingdom of Belka)



The reform, however, leds to a coup d’état attempt by those who oppose the rule of the new Queen. The coup leaders consisted of top military and civilian officials who were members of the the hard line Marxist wing in the secret organisation "Falcons of Dawn". Having learned from the experience of the 1995 "A World With No Boundaries" coup d'état that had overthrew the Belkan government, the Royal Belkan government was able to put down the coup in the capital of Dinsmark, after the Belkan Army stormed the Reichsrat building in the early morning hours and arrested the leaders of the coup by the Queen's order.

Yet, their infiltration into Belka proved deeper than expected, in a few days following the failed coup in the capital, the insurrection broke out across the country. The rebels declared themselves the Belkan Republican Army, aim to create the so-called “Democratic Socialist Republic of Belka”.

Due to how resourceful the mercenaries had proven themselves to be during the previous “Belkan War”, the Royal Belkan Air Force had decided they too would utilise mercenary pilot in the war against the rebellion. As the result, individual mercenary units were formed in the Royal Belkan Air Force, one such unit is the Taktisches Luftwaffengeschwader 602 (Tactical Air Force Wing 602; abbreviated as TaktLwG 602). The pilots in mercenary air wings received pay much better than average, but are often assigned more dangerous tasks. Once signed up, there are only three ways to leave: Survive the three year contract, pay off a 1.5-million credit contract violation penalty, or desertion, which is a capital offence. Nontheless, the high risk high reward contract indeed attracted all kinds of skilled pilots from different countries, with all kinds of assorted and often sordid pasts.

The Belkan Civil War is now in motion that cannot be undone.



"Reporting live for OBC...

On Tuesday, at 10:00 in the morning Dinsmark time, the Belkan Reichsrat was suspended and martial law was declared.

With the government in crisis, the Kingdom of Belka was entering into what can only be described as a state of civil war.

Then yesterday at dawn, BRA rebel forces seized the region around the industrial city of Hoffnung, including a nuclear missile base housing Belkan ICBMs.

As rebel military forces now pushing towards Mund Valley to encircle Avalon Dam, Royalist military forces are in a state of high alert..."



===================

- Hackenberg Air Force Base, Dinsmark, Capital of Belka -
30 November, 2025, 0700 hrs

​

The sky is still a dark blue.

The faint light of the morning sun shines from the hills in the east, but it only lights up a small part of the sky. The air is cold, around 5 or 6 degrees celsius, and the air felt humid. November is usually the darker, colder month in Dinsmark when the weather starts to turn, but the month still has the beauty of autumn most years. Ashley remember fondly that, in previous years, towards the end of this month she can enjoy the opening of the many Christmas markets in Dinsmark.

Not this year, of course. The raging civil war had knocked everything off the track. The Christmas market is ruined, but on the other hand, the mercenary market is flourishing. Stretched and yawned, Ashley walked leisurely into the base canteen, and saw that her fellow mercenary pilots in the TaktLwG 602 had already gathered in the canteen for breakfast. There's no scheduled mission for today, after all.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Marina and Alexandrov

Raptor and Cub

"Okay, so there I was, caught red handed, about to get my ass kicked by a bunch of pissed off mercs. The problem was, I'd uh...already sold the goods. And the guy I fenced it to certain wasn't gonna ask for cheap. Man, they were pissed, I tell ya. Nearly ripped my head off. But the good thing is, I kept the money. And I offered to give everything I'd made, plus a lot extra, if they could beat me in a game of poker. I was honestly expecting them to just beat the shit out of me and rob me blind, but the dumb bastards actually said yes! Not just that, but they even let me bring the cards. Of course, I had them marked on the back. They were too busy staring at their own cards to notice them. Needless to say...I was a rich man after that little stunt. Still got my ass kicked, though. It's just they got thrown in the brig, seeing as how I'd won their money fairly and honestly. As fair and honest as poker can be, anyways." Alex had been going on about his many misadventures in the past ever since he got to the canteen, intermittently eating whatever slop they were serving that day. God it tasted awful, but it was food. Mari agreed, doing nothing but eating, though she was obviously a bit uncomfortable, seeing as she was unable to talk. Her brother, however, was talking maybe a bit much. He turned to see Ashley enter the canteen, the Estovakian waving as he yelled over the small chatter, "Hey, Ashley! Good to see ya, c'mon have a seat."

He leaned forward onto the table, taking out a cigarette before putting it away. "Fuck, can't smoke indoors. Bad habit anyways. Hear about what's going on? Looks like we're gonna make quite the payday soon, eh?" He seemed a bit too excited for this. In fact it was obvious he was masking his real feelings with enthusiasm. Mari wasn't so good at this, looking visibly dejected as she ate. She'd had her share of civil wars, and if the pay wasn't so good neither she nor Alex would be here. But man...that payday.

"So Ash...whaddya think of this whole situation? The BRA and those uh...the guys we're fighting, can't remember their names." He leaned back on his bench, placing his arms behind his head as he waited for an answer. "Personally...I've seen this whole song and dance before. Doesn't really matter to me who wins, just as long as we get paid, and get the hell out. Ain't I right, Sis?" He gave Marina a smack on the shoulder, almost making her spill her water everywhere. She turned in fury, Alex flinching a bit before a a small, almost invisible smile formed on her face. She gave a simple nod to her brother. This was just another payday. Wasn't personal. They just wanted to get paid.

Interactions:
Jackson123

(Feel free to jump in!)
yoikes
blitzfritz
Whisker
Doctor Nope​

 

[blitzfritz]

0600 hours: Wake up to a morning with no scheduled plans. Keep one ear out for changes.
0605 hours: Wash up. Getting an earful from your Squad Commander about the BO smell lingering inside of a MiG-29A is only if you keep forgetting.
0635 hours: Straighten the sheets. Sorties can waver this part of the process for now.
0639 hours: Head out of the barracks to the canteen. Enjoy the day amid the civil war.

Rylie would've waited for Lou, but she forgot to get to the canteen yesterday, and her stomach growled in eagerness for a meal. In all honesty, she would've waited so that the two can walk together so that Rylie wouldn't have to worry about a nasty fall from her left leg forgetting to walk.

But, the stomach kept demanding. And demanding. "Shut up!"

It was still demanding.

With a reserved but resigned sigh, Rylie started to go on ahead, being careful to not trip over her own two feet. Visible limp aside, Rylie wasn't one to take a knockdown easily after the crash; maybe before and certainly during her funk, but now, her stubborness and brash actions certainly helped her.

And also hindered her-as noted with her SQCC, Friechrich Scimander (Newt 1).

Soon enough, Rylie go to the canteen, seeing multiple mercinary pilots of the TaktLwG 602 already here, which included Chatty Cub over by the far end with his sister. Even if newer mercenaries glanced and stared for a few seconds as Rylie walked to get the morning slop, she didn't care. She was just another mercenary pilot.

Her silver cross-chain necklace glinted and clinked itself together as the food was gotten, and Church made herself over to Cub and Raptor once the Pheonix made an appearance. Tagging on the tail end of Alex's story, she cocked an eyebrow before sitting a measurable distance of 3 chairs from him and his sister. Another couple of pilots were on the other side of her, talking about their families back home; it kinda reminded Rylie of her father, softly but firmly hugging onto the younger variation before calling for his wife so the three of them can compile what to eat that day.

Turning back to the convo between the siblings, it looked like she got prickly again and almost doused her brother with water. Another bite of food, before speaking up with a mouth half-full, "Well, I hope that this civil war gets under control with the help of air superiority: the Belkans were the first ones to use aircraft in conflicts, from what I remember in the history books."

 

[Jackson123]

“I’m just a woman who’s good at what she does, flying and killing. There’s no win or lose in wars for a mercenary. I get paid or I get killed, the outcome of the war doesn’t mean much for me.”

Ashley shrugged while she went over to get the chow from the cooks. She then saw Ella ‘Ice-tea’ Rothmann came to the table with her own tray of food. She is Ashley’s Radar Intercept Officer (RIO) on her Tomcat.

“What about you, Ella?”

“Just realising how insipid politics and the march of time can turn friends into enemies just as easily as the wind changes. Ridiculous, isn’t it?” Ella said wryly.

“Well……”

“But on the bright side, now we know who are the communist among us, we can weed them out accordingly.” Ella said as she stuck a protein bar into her mouth.

Interaction: Rusty of Shackleford

 

[yoikes]

Louisa "Rook" Waltz

Lou usually would already be awake at this hour, finished taking a jog around her base and would be at canteen already, or perhaps already go about her day doing something else. But not today, not this morning. She's still snugly asleep in her bunk, her entire body hidden beneath the thin blanket that comes with the bed bunks, in an attempt to warm herself more in the cold weather. The Schloss was ordered to move back to Dinsmark last night, and then as they are already in the sky, asked to patrol around the area. Then as if it couldn't be any worse, they spotted some BRA scouts that turned away when they spot them, the decision that allow them to escape their chase.

They reported to the base proper at 0130 hours, and Lou was already feeling tired and sleepy. She can't be bothered to go to the canteen, so she grabbed two packs of MRE and head to their assigned room. Some meat with rice and baked beans, she doesn't even bother to read the names on it. She just ate them, set aside the leftover packaging underneath her bunk, and fall asleep as soon as she touched the pillow.

The phone she put by her side lit up, and just barely vibrating and sound the alarm when a hand shot out of the blanket to turned it off. Lou rose up with a yawn, she wished she could just stay asleep, but she already promised Church that she'll get breakfast with her. How long has it been since they last stationed in the same base? Perhaps before the war?

Setting that thought aside, Lou dragged herself out of her bunk and get ready. Then, in just about 30 minutes, she's already at the crowded canteen. Lou is not that hungry yet, so rather than joining the growing line of people, she's scanning the room, trying to find Church.

blitzfritz

Einhart "Jackal" Castle

"Ein!! Wake up, you piece of shit!" The captain of the Scythe squadron, Diaz -- aka Scythe 1, aka Old Man-- barged into the barrack room. Three of the four beds are already empty, the owners already joined the rest of the crew outside, excitedly watching how shit is about to go down this morning. The loud entrance awaken the duo that was still sleeping, a woman squealing when Diaz tore off the blanket away from them, revealing the two naked bodies underneath it. "Put your clothes on, both of you! And get out of here, lassie!"

"Aw, c'mon, old man!" Ein groaned, putting on his as fast as he could, as he can't bear listening to the laughs from outside the door. "We were just having fun last night!"

"Keep your excuses. I told you already what today is going to be." Diaz sounded annoyed, rightfully so. "Hayashi, where is that sandwich I asked you to get? Give it to him, he can get eat it during the final briefing."

"I might die. I want some fun, just in case."

"Keep saying that and you might die for real this time." Hayashi groaned as he passed the sandwich to him. He quickly unwrapped the paper wrapping, finding it to be plain bread with thin slices of ham with a fried egg filling. Their food has been improving a bit as they are taking more regions off the royalist control. Perhaps by the time they enter Dinsmark, Ein will finally see the full chunk of meat. Not that he's complaining as long as it's food to eat. Eating it with big bites, Ein finished it before they even arrived at the briefing room.

It was boring as usual, but anyone but him listened to it attentively. It's going to be a vital fight in their fight to push into the northern territories, after all. Other than supporting their ground forces, they will also need to secure dominance in the sky, which will be a more interesting task.

"Our intel told us that the renowned Schloss squad has been moved to Dinsmark as well, so at this moment, they and the 602 are the main threat that we will be facing." The BRA captain explained, the slideshow showing the data that they know of the squad alongside their emblem, a rock castle tower with a pair of swords crossed behind it. "The battle must be done swiftly before more reinforcement could arrive."

Everyone seemed a bit more uneasy at the mention of 602, the rumor has spread around of how the royalist force recruits the best mercenaries they could find, tying them down with an "enticing" contract. Ein can't seem to understand why the BRA seems to be trying to avoid them, while he thinks it would be easier to just confront them and shoot them down out of the sky. Isn't that the more permanent solution? But when the briefing ended, so does his daydreaming. It's time to fly out to the sky and confront them for real.

 

[Whisker]

Leopold "Spook" Springer
FANG 2
Grounded - Hackenberg AFB
0700 Hours



​

"Godammit."

Leopold Springer was late. Worse than late, he was also hopelessly, hopelessly lost. Standing between a cluster of dilapidated old storage buildings, Fang's number 2 flight breathed some life back into his numb, frozen fingers and attempted to study the map again.

"Okay," he told himself. "You exit the barracks. Turn left at the second building. Walk across the street. Turn right on -- No wait, was it left?"

He heaved a sigh of frustration. It was only his second day on Hackenberg AFB and as one of the only formerly civilian pilots recruited into the TaktLwG 602, life on the base had been miserable almost from the second he'd arrived. The shouting he could handle. The constant barrage of unfamiliar sights and sounds he could handle. Operating on three hours of sleep? Easy as cake.

But room 204? Room 204 might actually kill him.

There were 5 members assigned to the room in all and each and every one of them were tough-talking, sharp-eyed veterans. Two of them were former aces in the regular unit on the other side looking to pad their retirement checks. Three were foreigners from Usea. They'd fought in the Lighthouse War and had lived to tell the tale. Regardless of their nationalities, however, they all seemed to possess one singular commonality: they could smell a newbie like a shark could smell freshly spilled blood.

Almost from the second he had walked in, Leopold had quickly become the butt of all of their jokes. Whether it was forcing him to recite the Airman's Creed until his tongue slurred, or making him fold and re-fold his socks into the drawers until they could have come straight out of the packaging, they lit into him at every opportunity they could find. And as he stared at his map, it occurred to him only now that they may have intentionally given him the wrong directions to the Canteen.

"Dammit!"

He lashed out a nearby railing with his foot. A painful jarring was his only response, but the pain was a lot better now than the crisp November chill. Placing his hands inside his pockets, he turned around and started the long trudge back in the direction of the barracks instead. As he walked, he tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. Instead, he let his thoughts drift instead onto the only information he had been given that he was sure was solid.

"As of now, you will be flying wing for Fang 1. Follow all orders they give you and prepare for deployment."

Fang 1, huh?

As he left the shadow of the buildings and emerged within sight of the runway, he gazed in the direction where he knew the hangar housing his pride and joy -- a painted F/A18 E Hornet -- to be.

I wonder what kind of pilot they'll be in the sky.

​

He supposed he'd find out pretty soon.

 

[Doctor Nope]

Lucien "Needle" Auburt

Sat in the cafeteria surrounded by quite a few others, Lucien had finished eating rather quickly. The food here wasn't anything special, but he didn't turn his nose up at it either. He sat with earphones on, music turned up loud enough to be faintly heard to those who got near him. From the little he could currently hear of the outside world, some of those present had starting talking about politics or something. Nothing he was interested in.

What he was REALLY focused on at this moment was the almost physics-defying structure of dining utensils he had created, balancing forks and spoons over the edge of a bowl with perfect accuracy. It didn't look possible, like the utensils were being suspended by a string. And yet, here it was. Elegant. Perfect.

And then it fell. Ah well, nothing good could last forever. He at least managed to catch the things before they made an annoying clanging noise against each other. Time to try again.

 

[Jackson123]

The loudspeaker in the canteen that were blaring out generic restaurant music suddenly stops, and from afar the air raid siren can be heard wailing from the urban area.

Hackenberg AFB Base Command
<<Attention all pilots! Attention all pilots! Radar reported fresh enemy concentrations at bearing 2-0-0, Angels 18. Large formation of 2 aerial cruisers, 10 bombers and 30 escort fighters on a course for Dinsmark. All planes, scramble to intercept.>>​

Pilots are running towards their aircraft, ground crews running the final checks to make sure weapons are armed and ready. Everything seem chaotic yet are actually running precisely as planned.

Ashley bump into a few people on her way to the Tomcat and was apologising over her shoulder.

Ella was the first that managed to climb into the backseat. “Chief, give me ground power and air!” Ashley shouted to the ground crew chief as she dash for the aircraft. Ella reach over to the control panel to her left elbow to make sure oxygens are on, and then switch on the weapon control system on the APG-71.

“Ah, good to see you made it. I was just wondering if I should make a run for the bomb shelter while I still can if you came up a second later.” Ella joked when she saw Ashley climb the ladder into the front seat.

“Then glad I have arrived just in time.” Ashley laughed while she switch on the oxygen knob for the front seat.

“WCS standby. ICS comm check, can you hear me?” Ella said over the intercomm.

“Loud and clear, Ice-tea”

After Ella had input the nav data into the computer address panel, while waiting for the Inertial Navigation System course alignment, she flips switches around the backseat cockpit from her left to right. Left sides, there’s TACAN to transmit and receive. Radio to T/R+G, safe all jettison switches on armament panel, uncage SAI (standby altitude indicator). And then to the right side of the cockpit, turn on radar warning receiver, DECM(defensive electronic countermeasures) to standby, turn on data link, turn on IFF...

In the front seat, Ashely had finished with the instruments and warnings check, and ejection seats are armed. The engines started running at idle, the right engine roar to life first, then the left one.

“Disconnect ground power. I’m closing the canopy” the pilot said, after which the polycarbonate canopy slowly descended and locked into place, the thunderous engine sound became muffled.

Ashley then started flipping switches around in front and to the side. All 3 switches for the Stability Augmentation System on the left panel, radar warning receiver at her right, then the Vertical Display Indicator, Horizontal Situation Display, Heads Up Display, then saw to it that the gauge trim is at 0.

“Ice-tea, how’s the INS going?” She asks over the comm in the helmet.

“Hang on…almost there” Ella looked at the Tactical Information Display and the carrot is still slowly moving through left to right. The further it moves to the right, the more precise the alignment.

“Take your time. It’s just that we might get bombed anytime now.” Ashley tried to sound calm in her voice while she uncage the standby altitude director indicator and Radar Altimeter.

Emergency wing-sweep, forward, locked and covered. Master Reset. Ground air disconnected.

“Fine alignment complete, switching nav mode to INS, liquid cooling on….OK, We’re ready to taxi, Pheonix” Ashley can hear the relief in the sound of her RIO.

Taking off from the runway almost doesn’t feel right for Ashley. As a naval aviator that served on carriers, her muscle memory had somehow connected “setting throttle to full afterburner” to the shock of catapult and the G-force firmly squeezing her body into the pilot seat. Thus when the twin F110-GE-400 turbofans each produce a powerful 28,000 pounds of thrust that propelled the 34-ton steel into the air, it just felt…too gentle.

Anyhow, the Tomcat had now soared into the sky.

 

[blitzfritz]

Turning her attention away from the twins, Rylie spotted who she was waiting for: Louisa. The younger pilot gave a wave to her, giving a couple of snapping motions with her fingers before shoveling another mouthful of food down the gullet. The two had been friends since their cadet days in the Kellerman Institution, even when luck was on her side and she bet Rook into the ground by a simple card game-that's how the two met and developed a friendly rivalry from.

Ehh...the food was okay, but it wasn't worth finishing it; so, Church got up to approach Rook instead, dipping by the trash to scrape what was left into the garbage. The raccoons can snack on it later if they want to.

In all honestly, Louisa had been with her through thick and thin-what could change that?

Before the pilot could start talking, however, the ambiance stops and the air raid siren begins. It didn't take a smartass to know that this was serious, and her lips press into a thin line of stress at the mention of a large fleet. 30 escorts for 10 bombers and 2 cruisers-trouble all around. Turning to Rook, Church gave a light punch to her shoulder, "Talk later, sorry 'bout this."

And the lucky bastard of a MiG pilot was running, somewhat awkwardly, towards the hangers where her jet was located.

Getting the MiG-29 to start wasn't that hard. It just needed a little magic touch since it loves to pitch downwards when it starts the takeoff, but otherwise, it was just a matter of time. "Get me ground power!" Rylie yelled to the ground crew, getting her way over to her lovely little aircraft. Hoisting herself into the seat, the usual checks were in order; oxygen, electrical power, radar systems, navigation and cockpit lights, trim settings were in neutral, among other routine things. Cycling the engines next-first the left one in an agonizingly slow wait, and once the stabilization took place in the engine, then the left one was rolling.

"ICS comm check to Newt squadron. Can you hear me?"

Ah, the ol' recognizable voice of Friechrich Scimander. Rylie has a twinge of a sneer across her lips under the helmet, but was the first to respond-the duty of a wingman. "Loud and clear, Newt 1. I hope you can hear me too, over."

Checking once more over everything and making sure that ground power was disconnected, it seemed that all systems were a-go. Nothing was blinking or out of alignment, and thus, her rightful conclusion was thus: the MiG was ready to taxi. Rylie finished the touches by turning on the taxi light, and closing the canopy-the muffled roar of the Klimov RD-33 turbofan engines was a familiar sound to her by now.

Breath in, breath out. Ignore the twinge of dull scraping pain erupting from the hips, and join the others.

Pushing the throttle to meet up with the lining planes, glancing at a Tomcat that took to the dark skies. The sun was slowly rising into the air, and a tight feeling settled in Rylie's chest. She couldn't see the force, not yet at least, and while the breathing techniques helped in stealing her nerves, it never exactly replaced the security of being grounded.

"Scramble and get those birds in the sky! We need as many as we can get!"

Church watched as a couple more jets-another Tomcat, and two Eagles-took off, and she saw the signature sigil on the tail of her Squadron Commander taxing onto the runway; each member of the 5-man Newt Squadron had the mark of a red lizard-like beast encircling a star on the tail of their aircraft, including Rylie's Fulcrum.

"Standby at the front, Newt Squadron. Newt 1, cleared for takeoff."

The other noticable thing about the Newt Team was their usage of aircraft. Almost every single one was a Fulcrum, but for some godforsaken reason, Friechrich decided to have his be a Su-37 Terminator. A difference in aircraft makes you an easier target, dimwit! But Rylie simply watched the asshole thrust his afterburner and take to the sky.

"Newt 1 has cleared the runway; Newt 2, head onto the runway to join Newt 1."

Welp, this was it. It would be nice to finally meet whoever created this world if she got shot down, but Rylie obeyed the Control Tower and hauled ass to get on the runway; turns out, Newt 5 and 4 were in front of her, lining up onto another runway. Lovely. Newt 3 was the newbie of the group, and we all could see it; Rylie tries to be nice to him, but his overbearing optimism acting like a sheltered kid makes her want to open his eyes real wide and make him watch a puppy go through a meat grinder.

Shit, she's not that mean, but Rylie's thoughts tend to enact imaginary revenge onto many a poor soul.

"Newt 2, cleared for takeoff."

Switched from taxi lights to landing lights, and flaps are down. Brakes on, trim is set to 12, and power starts accelerating into afterburner; brakes off, push the power to full, and the Fulcrum is schmoovin'. Rylie pulls back on her backtrim to keep from going nose-down while in takeoff, but regardless, it's relatively memory repetition.

And soon enough, the Fulcrum has taken to the air.

 

[yoikes]

Louisa "Rook" Waltz

Lou grinned when she finally spotted her friend from between the crowd, waving back and to meet her midway, considerate of her friend's leg injury though she know Rylie would wrestle her if she knew about it. But before they could actually reunite, the sound of a siren started blasting everywhere around them.

"Ah, fu..." Before she could finish her cussing, her friend throw a light punch on her shoulder. Lou nodded, muttering a small "See ya later" that she doubt she heard among all the organized chaos. Wasting no more time, Lou joined the rush of the crowd that raced out of the cafeteria, many of which heading toward the hangars. They know these situations can happen, and they've been trained for it, like how Lou instantly switched into an alert and ready-to-fight version of herself.

Schloss squadron was assigned to a hangar quite far from the others and close to the edge of the base, considering they just arrived yesterday unlike the 602s or other squads permanently stationed here. The thought of running all the way there is unappealing, and Lou was ready to do it, but thankfully the appearance of a jeep car filled with six familiar faces put that a stop.

"Get in!" Amber, aka Scholss 5, gestured to the empty spot next to him. Lou wasted no time to jump in, with Jeremy-- Scholss 1-- stepping on the gas the very next moment she enter. When the Schloss squad arrived at their hangar, the ground crew thankfully already prepared everything for their arrival, Lou was worried that there will be no crew available to help them. The seven pilots quickly exited their jeep to climb into each of their own F-16XL, Jeremy yelling to someone to tell them that the jeep's engine is still running as he climbed into his plane, though his voice is drowned by the sound of engines and plane and after plane taking off.

Lou prepared the power for a quick startup of the engine, getting it ready to go under three minutes all the while double-checking to make sure that everything is running correctly. Once satisfied, she closed and fastened the canopy of her plane, showing a thumbs up to her squadmate and the crews to sign that she's good to go as well.

"Dinsmark Traffic, this is Scholss 1, Scholss Squadron is ready to go. Can we get directions to the nearest active runway? Over." It takes two or three minute until they are directed to a different runaway close to where they are, one that they are just opening to help manage the number of planes taxiing to take off. "Dinsmark Traffic, Scholss 1 leading Scholss Squadron taxiing to runway 03".

And so the Scholss squadron left the shadow of their hangar, their metallic silver paint seems glint gold when reflecting the sunrise, their emblem on their blue tail announcing who they are. Some people may find their choice of metallic color weird, but that is a part of a strategy, such as making it reflect the sunlight and making it harder for the enemy pilot to chase them with plain eyes. At night, it illuminates under the light of moon and star, making them look ominous and intimidating.

Soon enough, it was their turn line up for take-off, with Lou at the end as Scholss 7. Lou doesn't mind that, it's not like she has to wait long for her turn anyway, she would spend the short waiting time checking all her panels again to make sure that everything is good. A single mistake up in the sky could cost her her life, after all. Once she's cleared, she joined her squadmates in the sky in a close, double finger-four formation. From above, they would look like soldiers in a shield wall formation.

Einhart "Jackal" Castle

Dinsmark looks huge! Ein has seen the pictures, but he never expected them to be that big. Guess everything does look bigger in real life. Their convoy is approaching the city practically unopposed, with the SAMs already picked off one by one by their vanguards, which makes everything a bit boring for Ein to be put at the tail end of the convoy together with the rest of Scythe. Not that there's anything he can do, cruisers are huge and slow, and that is what they have been assigned to escort this time.

"All BRA fighters, this is Overlord. Multiple bandits inbound, presently counting two dozens." A warning from their AWACS, and with it, a bunch of new blips showing on his radar. Enemies, with more showing up with every minute. Excited, Ein started arming his weapon system to get ready.

"Okay, boys, get ready!" Scythe 1 barked at them, though Ein was willing to everyone already do the same as he did. Their disorganized flight falls into a V-formation, with Scythe 1 at the center of it. Their blood-red color scheme for the body was purposely chosen to attract attention as well as to intimidate, as no one other than them is crazy enough to paint their plane red, the color matched the black that covered the wings and tail. A white skull sign, their emblem, was painted at the tail. Under it is an image of their own callsigns, with Ein's being a cartoonish image of a dog showing a loony expression that is fitting for a Jackal.

 

[Whisker]

Leopold "Spook" Springer
FANG 2
Grounded - Hackenberg AFB
0710 Hours



​

It was the sudden blaring of the Air Raid siren reverberating throughout the base that jolted Leopold out of his silent reverie.

Hackenberg Base Command
<<Attention all pilots! Attention all pilots! Radar reported fresh enemy concentrations at bearing 2-0-0, Angels 18. Large formation of 2 aerial cruisers, 10 bombers and 30 escort fighters on a course for Dinsmark. All planes, scramble to intercept.>>

He didn't stand still long enough to hear the message repeat. Instead, he took off running, darting out from behind the buildings to the one place he did know how to get to without a map. After all, Hackenberg's impressive runway was impossible to miss from either the ground or the air. With a high control tower that could be seen almost anywhere from within the base, a network of floodlights pointed towards the row of hangars flanking both sides of the runway, and the constant sound of jet noise, someone would have to be blind or deaf not miss out on the presence that place gave.

Which was probably what the enemy was thinking, too.

In a burst of speed almost impressive for his slight frame, Leopold hopped the fence of the field separating him from the closest of the runway hangars and took off towards it as quick as he could go. In front of him, he could see others dashing for it as well in a mad scramble. They all seemed to be pouring from a large brick building off to his right. And judging from the way a few of them were still wiping crumbs of food from their mouths, he guessed that had to be the Canteen he'd been looking for all along. Not that this was any help to him now. Instead, he focused on getting towards Hangar A320 where his baby had been stored. It was also the place where he knew he'd find the mysterious FANG 1, the pilot he'd be taking orders from the duration of the next three years assuming they survived today's encounter.

When he arrived in the hangar, he found the place to be an utter shitstorm. Ground crews and mechanics were everywhere, hastening to do last-minute checks on the planes. No one inside had taken off yet. Without being told, Leopold proceeded over to his locker and ripped out his flight helm from inside. Like most pilots in the mercenary force, Leopold had taken full advantage of not being subjected to the art ban imposed on the regular Belkan military. His helmet was a solid matte black with a cartoonish-looking white ghost embossed upon its crown. In the back in bold white letters, it spelled out his callsign for all to see. Jamming it on his head, he proceeded over towards his painted F/A 18E fighter and clambered inside.

"Alright, old girl, let's get you started up."

His heart pumping with adrenaline, Leopold flicked the battery switch down to the override position. In a whirring of gears, the generator lights sputtered to life, indicating he was good to proceed on with the checklist. Given that FANG 1's plane was still empty, Leopold decided to be on the safe side and give his fire tests a check. He pushed switch A and let the voice code play.

Engine Fire Left! Engine Fire Right! Engine Fire Right! APU Fire! APU Fire! Bleed Air Left! Bleed Air Right!

Then he did the same for switch B albeit a bit more impatiently now that he could make out planes already taxiing towards the runway from his peripheral vision. When the test was done, he looked over to the plane captain standing on duty nearby and gave him three fingers to signify that he was starting the APU. He received thumbs up in return followed by the signal to the crew in the area that the engines were about to come on. Leopold fired it up and waited the 7 or so seconds it took for the light to go green. And when it did, he uncaged the right throttle, watching the speed of the engine tick up on the IV.

5%

10%

15%

As it climbed up to the sweet spot of sixty, the gauges came on and he gave them a cursory scan to read the oil pressure, fuel, and engine temperatures. All were reading back optimal levels, which he was quite thankful for given the speed for which he was having to fly through everything.

At least something's going my way today.

On the ground, the plane captain came around the nose of the plane and prepared to signal him out. Leopold cranked the bleed air knob 360 degrees and then set about getting his left engine online as well. Soon enough, it was time to get the right and left DDIs powered on and set his alignment to ground since they were still on the airfield. Next came the radar, the o-box, the FCS, and flaps. Finally, he was ready to release the parking brake and power up the API.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leopold could see at least one plane fly down the runway and take off. An F-14D with no squadron trailers, it whipped past and launched into the dawn air at the head of a growing pack of planes. If they didn't hurry, their flight might be one of the ones still left on the ground trying to taxi when the enemy forces arrived. Wiping off a bead of sweat from his eye, he armed his ejection seat to 'hot' and started work on his weapon systems knobs, placing the ECM on standby to warm up. Now, he was ready to taxi, but without word from his lead plane, there was not much to do but standby and get ready for the word from his lead to come rolling in.

STATUS:

READY FOR TAKEOFF

Direct mentions: Rusty of Shackleford

Indirect mentions: Jackson123

​

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Fang 1
Alexandrov and Marina

He smirked at Rylie's mention of Belkan air superiority, shrugging as he said, "Well, guess since it's Belka vs. Belka, they needed someone to break the stalemate, eh?" He still wasn't convinced this was some sort of grand elaborate plan or something. Half the wars in the last few decades were caused by, directly or indirectly, Belka. Mari just sort of shrugged and kept eating. Her much more talkative brother was about to respond to Ashley when the alarm blared. The two looked up with a familiarity a bit unnerving for people as young as them. Without even an ounce of hesitation, they dropped their food and immediately bolted to their hangar. They hadn't even met Fang 2 yet, so this was a good way to make sure whoever it was knew what they were doing.

It was almost inhuman how fast they were in their flight suits. It was all muscle memory by now, and it wasn't long after they were rushing to their beloved Super Hornet. The twins hastily climbed into the cockpit, without even thinking starting up the usual diagnostics. "Warning system is good, ECM functional." With two of them, the process went by much faster, though it still felt like an eternity. There was a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety in the twins. On the one hand, they loved flying. They loved the thrill of dodging a missile of locking onto a target. But there was always the chance this sortie would be their last.

At last, they finished, Alex finally noticing Fang 2, "Oh, so you're Fang 2, huh? Pleased to meet you. Name's Cub, I'm the WSO for Fang 1. This lovely, charming fellow here is my sister> I'd give you her name but she prefer to go by Raptor, cuz she looks like a dinosaur." There was an audible chuckle over the radio, followed by the sound of someone getting smacked and muffled complaining. "Anyways, form up on us, Fang 2. Control, we clear to take off?" The voice blared over the comms not long after. "Affirmative, you are clear for take off." Cub smirked, putting on his breathing mask as he said, "You heard the boss! On us, Fang 2!"

After the brief taxi, the two planes found themselves son the runway, Raptor in a focused silence, making sure everything was good to go. Cub was the same, except he was talking, of course. "Alright, stick close to us and watch our backs. You'll get through this, don't worry. We ready, sis?" Raptor gave a quiet nod, a smile forming under his mask as he shouted, "Fang 1, taking off! Let's make our payday!" The engines of their war machine exploded to life, shooting superheated air of the the turbines and pushing the plane down the runway. The Gs were more or less routine by now. They always took off hard and fast, a symptom of their often strenuous training years. After a few minutes, the Gs subsided, and they were high above the skies of Dismark. Cub looked down through his cockpit, letting out an impressed whistle. "Man, the view is really different form up here, huh? Guess they were right when they said there aren't any borders from up here." He made the mistake of saying this on open comms, and probably got him put on a Royal watchlist as a possible terrorist, but whatever. "Sorta like the war back home, huh sis? How they attacked Gracemeria right off the bat." There was a cold silence in the cockpit after that, Raptor just quietly maneuvering her plane into formation. "Yeah, sorry, shouldn't have brought it up. You ready for this, Fang 2? Also uh, what should we call you? Fang 22 just doesn't really roll off the tongue, ya know?"​

 

[Doctor Nope]

<< GILD 1, Needle >>
<< Lucien Auburt >>
​

Lucien was quick to the hangars as soon as the announcement went off, finding himself already in his flight suit and entering his Rafale before he could register much. At this point, his body was capable of autopiloting through preparations. Inside the cockpit, he started with a few switch flips to turn on the electrical systems and get the MFDs online. He started the fuel pump for the left engine and watched the rightmost display as the temperature rose and the engine started to spool, a low hum gradually getting higher and higher in pitch greeting his ears. As he waited for that to happen, he prepared all the other systems that needed to be attended to. When he patched into the ATC's radio frequency, he heard a fragment of an apparantly amusing conversation.

<<...go by Raptor, cuz she looks like a dinosaur >>

He managed to stifle an auditory response to that. The left engine had finished spooling now, so he moved on to doing the same for the right engine, during which he flipped through the MFD modes to double check everything, then went ahead and made his flap and aileron checks. After everything looked to be in order, with both engines ready, he taxiid to the runway and updated the traffic controller.

<< GILD 1 to Tower, standing by at the runway >>
<< Cleared for take-off, GILD 1 >>

And soon after that he was off, zooming ahead to catch up with those that had ascended before him. As the mercenaries made their way towards the earlier spotted enemies, it occured to him that they were most likely going to end up in one hell of a furball considering the reported number of bandits.

<< ...Hey, could I get an updated Bogey Dope? >>

 

[Jackson123]

AWACS Berta 7-5
<<ALCON ALCON, this is AWACS Berta 7-5. Enemy formation approaching from South West, Angels 18. Restricted ROE has been lifted above Dinsmark, you are free to engage. Good luck and good hunting.>>​

The ground which had passed by at an astonishing speed disappeared. The only colours in front of the windscreen were those of the burning sky. The violent shaking disappears, and turning her head, the world moves away, ever away, and things on the ground seem to lose their speed. The outline of the control tower disappears, as if buried in the ground. The air base runway grows smaller and smaller, becoming like a child's toy, then swallowed up by the earth.

The Tomcat detaches from the ground behind and ascend diagonally into the sky. Even the engine sound became distant as the fighter aircraft reached the speed not even sound can catch up.

The streets, scarred by days of coup and subsequent riots, could be seen faintly behind the vertical stabiliser, but soon that too disappeared across the hazy atmosphere.

Tilting the stick slowly, the aircraft was brought back to level at an altitude of 18,000 ft and began cruising, with the nose facing south as it rose.

A reassuring smile appeared on Ashley's face after looking at the instruments to confirm that there were no problems. A smile that would never be seen by anyone on the ground, a pure smile.

The colour of the sky in the endless depths ahead and the deep hue of the zenith is holding the Tomcat in its infinite embrace.

Phoenix RIO|Ice-tea
<<Hmph, would you look at that, aerial cruisers. Look at those smokes, seems like they've managed to get those museum airship from 1940s running again.>>

Phoenix
<<Just what the hell have you guys been creating since 80 years ago...>>

Phoenix RIO|Ice-tea
<<Belkan Science, best in the world.>>

​

 

[blitzfritz]

As the ground faded from view, the details slowly becoming fuzzier by the distance, Rylie almost forgot the feeling of being pushed against her seat as the Fulcrum accelerated into the sky; it became a familiar ground of clouds as she angeled to fly catty corner to Newt 1’s right in formation. Soon the others joined up-first being Newt 4, then 5, and finally lagging behind was Newt 3. A perfect v-formation, symmetrical in key.

Systems were still a-okay, and Church shifted but for a moment, wincing at the dull shocking pain that erupted from her hips. Today was not doing her any favors, it seems-least of all the raid on Dinsmark with its air cruisers and stupid bombers.

Clicking her tongue, the drone of radio chatter from seperate channels became white noise for the morning, and the AWACS piped in to deliver the instructions. Berta 7-5, eh? Hostiles approaching southwest, 18 thousand feet; Newt Squadron had approached 18 thousand and began cruising, nose pointing southwards and-what Rylie assumed-had the group at 12 o'clock hot.

“<<Newt 2, how’s the physical therapy been workin’ out?>>” A rough, gruff voice cut the white noise and drew Church’s attention, the question coming from Newt 5’s plane. Helmuth “Snacko” Schultze, high-flier and a fatherly figure to anybody whom he ropes into his friend group, which is a lot of people. He exudes a friendly aura despite his brisled shave, and has the most important jobs in the squadron-and also sneaks snacks into the squadron, and nobody tells the bosses because they don’t want him to take the blame.

“It’s been going well enough.” Rylie responded, biting her tongue as to not to mention the SQCC who keeps snidely berating the poor pilot behind Rylie's back because of her disability. One, because Friedrich was in the channel as well, and two, because he- along with Newt 4 and 5- have been friends since cadet school, maybe before then.

“<<Hopefully Siesta isn’t giving you too much trouble over it, haha.>>” So Helmuth decided to call out his friend in Rylie’s place. He wasn't so much of an asshole as to not point out the comments the leader made about his wingman.

The morning sun was still rising over the horizon, the shapes and silhouettes of planes and cruisers approaching the grouping hairball of fighter planes. Rylie’s breathing hitched for a moment as she could imagine the chatter among the other pilots at the sight.

“<< This’ll be fun to navigate through and fight against. Like a needle in a urchin haystack.~>>” An excited tone with a twinge of sarcasm came from Newt 4, and Church could only imagine the smile that came onto the bloodthirsty ace’s lips. Loane “Whiplash” Holzknecht, also a high-flier but much more reckless in her tactics. Quite stubborn and uppity, but always accepted a challenge-erratic flying pattern aside. Tight, high-G turns were her specially; if she wasn’t on the verge of blacking out, she wasn’t living life.

“<<That’s too many. Are they...are they gonna take the capital?>>” The young, almost squeaky voice cracked tone coming from Newt 3 indicated his younger and much more inexperienced status. “Greenhorn”, Helmuth nicknamed him; “Ball of anxiety”, Loane calls him; “Worthless”, Friedrich spits at him. Alister Bishop, TAC callsign pending due to the SQCC’s hostility-but the hostility didn’t stop Helmuth from taking him under his wing regardless of his friend’s anger at a greenie joining the established squadron.

Rylie didn’t have a nickname for the newbie yet. Figured to at least give him some autonomy before slapping a name to his coat, to which that’s the likely reason why Alister had taken a predisposition to Rylie.

“<<They’re taking the capital over my dead body.>>” Ah, the familiar tone of challenged hostility emanating from Newt 1-why he hasn’t picked a different wingmate was beyond Church’s responsibilities. Friedrich “Siesta” Scimander, commander of the Newt Squadron. Serious and even more uppity than Loane, he refuses to take no for an answer and is rather pushy; Helmuth says it’s because he was a flight instructor, which is somewhat plausible for the attitude. Having a previous career means that the three cadet friends have at least a decade of experience under their belt compared to Rylie’s few years of wisdom and Alister’s complete blank slate.

Fun. Note the sarcasm.

Battle Carriers from the museum, the approaching large aircraft looked like-if they were from the museum, then it was a miracle that they still worked. Everyone joked and jabbed about “Belkan Science” being superior to other countries-at least Belkans joked about it. It was most likely a joke in poor taste to other countries, since the country itself had been in a ton of wars, either on the front lines or behind the scenes. Military support and advancements made it known-maybe that power would be its undoing, as evident with the current boiling civil war.

“We’re free to engage, Newt Team.” Rylie distracted her simering thoughts at the hairball with a question to her squadron commander, “Do we go in?”

A moment of silence hung in the air, the blaring of the burning engines being what sounded. Then, the hiss of approval from Friedrich. "<<Affirmative. Let’s raise some hell.>>”

The roar of afterburner, and the squadron dives headfirst into the fray.

// [free to interact, with either an interception or covering their tail!]

 

[Blitzkrieg Bob]

The alarms of a nearby airfield sounded when the radar warned of an approaching squad of enemy aircrafts in direction to a convoy of massive airships, although escorted, in the airfield the big wigs decided to send reinforcements to support the aerial group before the dogfighting raged.


The mechanic team and other personnel abandoned the landing zone taking with them cylinders of fuel and ammunition that couldn’t get to the aircrafts in time, in a matter of a few minutes the two aircrafts were on the air accelerating to reach the dogfight in time.


“Here, firefox, bridge you copy?”

“Here, bluebird, bridge?”

“Roger, firefox, roger, bluebird, the radar indicates an enemy squadron approaching to our aerial group, providing support, priority is to keep the airships on the air”.

“Roger”

“Roger”

“Visual contact with the aerial group and the enemy squadron confirmed, preparing to engage. Confirm, bluebird”.

“Confirm, firefox, I have your back covered”


The two pilots have arrived just in time, they might catch the enemy squadron by the rearguard if they get lucky, therefore, accelerated their planes to get the enemy between them and their allies, it seemed that both sides were about to engage which only helped for the momentaneous surprise, at least until the radar in the enemy aircrafts warned about them.


In any case, both bluebird and firefox, engaged each one against the aircrafts in the rearguard of the enemy squadron.


“Here Firefox, Belkan Air Force, engaging”


Said through the comms to identify herself to avoid friendly fire and immediately started to shoot at her target, the surprise played to he favour and of two missiles shot from her F 16, one reached the tail of the enemy, an explosion appeared in the red square shown on her screen, followed by a ball of fire of an aircraft falling to the ground.


“One boogey, down. One boogey, down”.


“Here Bluebird, Belkan Air Force, engaging”


Said the pilot at the same time, engaging with his target, again two missiles were shot, but both of them failed to reach the enemy aircraft as the pilot evaded with a wild turn, although the enemy had saved his life this time, he had abandoned formation and was pursued by bluebird.

 

[yoikes]

Louisa "Rook" Waltz

The aerial cruisers were hard to miss, or rather, it was impossible to. It was like seeing the sight of a hulking ancient behemoth being forced to rise from its slumber, called to a different war that has barely any difference to the one in the past. Louisa can't help but feel both amazed and curious about BRA's engineering capability, and how exactly they bring these ships out from whatever dusty hole they've been placed in.

"Are we really shooting that thing down?" Scholss 6's-- Tomita's husky voice asked curiously. "Like, it's totally gonna mess up the city."

"Geez, where should we even direct our attack?" Scholss 3-- Adil, asked with such puzzlement. "Will we even put a dent to it?"

"It better be. Better to rebuild than to lose the damn capital." Scholss 2, Erick, chirped in almost immediately. "Well, I assume we go for the big one like always, boss?"

"Heck yea, buddy" Scholss 1 confirmed for them. "Let's go for the one at the front. <<Attention all units. Scholls squadron is heading in to slay a giant or two. We'd appreciate some help here>>."


Einhart "Jackal" Castle

Ein's whole body was bouncing up and down, gritting his teeth down from the thrill he is feeling. The chaotic voices that he can hear in the open wave, the sounds of fighting happening all around him, and the roaring of his jet engines are driving him more and more excited. Normally, Ein would already break formation, going out on his way to chase a bandit or two, maybe bag them as well. But for some reason, this time he decided to stay. An instict held him back, whispering in his mind that he'll face strong enemies if he become a good boy and stay in position as ordered. It was proven soon enough.

"Heads up, bandits incoming!" Scythe 1 yelled, just a milisecond slower than the alert given by his radar. 7 dots, coming straight toward the cruises. They must be very confident to think that just the seven of-- "Goddamn, it's the Scholss!" Oh, that explains it. "<<Scythes, time to reap some souls! Engage! Engage! Engage!>>"

 

[Doctor Nope]

<< GILD 1, Needle >>
<< Lucien Auburt >>
​

Now that was a furball, he thought as the whirl of contrails came closer into view. Lucien remembered the last time he fought in such a setting, the hauntingly unnatural noise of radical-controlled drones still echoing in his mind. Not about to let numbers overwhelm his thinking, he focused on a single enemy fighter that'd gotten lost from it's squadron in the chaos.

<< "GILD 1, on station. Tally one bandit bearing 045 from me, engaging" >>

Deftly pushing on the control stick, he rolled to the right and and gently pulled into the bandit's direction, merging with them as both fighters sent out an obligatory spray of missed gunfire. They entered a two-circle flow. The Rafale M's corner speed, where it could turn the sharpest, would be at around 330 knots. He clenched every muscle he could in his lower body and took in a deep breath. Lucien pulled back on the throttle and engaged the airbrake to make a maximum performance high G turn, adding in a slight slice turn to his manouvre in order to reach the second merge faster than his opponent. Turbulence shook his airframe.

<< "Raygun." >>

No buddy-spike was called.

<< "Fox 2." >>

He pulled up sharply to avoid flying through the fireball that his target had just turned into, not wanting to burn out his air intakes. He levelled out, relaxed his straining muscles and took a few deep breaths, then briefly engaged the afterburner to recover lost energy.

<< "Splash 1." >>

Over the radio chatter he heard a friendly squadron reporting that they were about to engage a cruiser.

<< "Scholss Squadron, this is Needle. Ready to provide support." >>

yoikes