Fandom Crimson Lineage (Project Wingman Story)

[ManofManyRoles]

It'd been eight years since the world got turned upside down and spun about. The Federation was kicked out of Cascadia, and hounded by other nations for slights and injustices that had finally come to collect. As the old saying goes, karma's a bitch, and the Federation had plenty of karma. Alas, some things never change, and history tends to repeat itself for better or worse. Three months ago, a group of extremist politicians and military leaders had seceded from Cascadian sovereign territory along the northern coastline, many of them having either past or present ties to the Federation and some simply sharing a sort of ideology. They called themselves the Crimson Legion, and they had managed to make terrifyingly quick headway in their operations. There was speculation and rumors that it had been all been boiling up to this point, but how the hell it had gone unnoticed and whispered secrets in the dark gone unheard was a damn good question. A damn good question that, unfortunately, no one had the answers for.

The illegitimate nation-state wasn't satisfied with it's initial secession, and shortly after it had done so it started to strike out against Cascadia proper, several townships and a few cities taken in just a few weeks. Hired guns, potential proxy squadrons, fanatical and zealous military members carved into Cascadian territory, and totalitarian laws and military police ensured compliance from the newly 'liberated' land they claimed. Their political broadcasts and propaganda touted an effort to bring about a unified world, one of peace and unity so that strife wouldn't possibly cause another Prospero or Presidia. That their ends justified their means, and everything they did was for the betterment of World Peace. And once again, Cascadia was calling in favors and writing checks because of another nation.

Enfield AFB
Rose company only had a few years on the scene after the Cascadian Conflict, but they were quickly working to make a name for themselves. Often working for the highest bidder like many mercenary outfits, their selling point was quality over quantity. Consisting of a couple of handful of fighters and only three strike teams for ground ops, the company is considered an efficient and cost-effective means to hopefully slowing, if not stopping, the Legion. Of course, Cascadia would have loved to hire Sicario, but the United Kerneuropa Alliance currently had them out on contract for something. Because of that, other mercenary outfits had to be hired on. Outfits like the one currently stationed out of the old Enfield AFB. Stationed on a small island off the coast of the Scarred Sea, a remote position that proved to only be accessible by air or watercraft. It was, admittedly, a bit of a backwater base that often only saw small sorties and military postings usually, the Cascadians had gifted it to Rose Company as part of the bargaining process by the company head, Andrea 'Thorn' Booker, and the government. Booker was considered a no-nonsense woman who played hardball with just about every contract she could get her hands on, so if Enfield was the best she could get then it was truly the only thing she could get. Fortunately, Booker's prickly nature was evened out by the company's AWACS command, Miranda Astra, callsign 'Darkstar'. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't the most up-to-date; but it had a landing strip, clean barracks, and some ground and air defenses. Barebones of the bare minimum, but it was better than nothing. And now that everyone had a chance to settle in, it was only a matter of time before the first job came in.

The handful of grunts that made up the strike teams had commandeered the cafeteria this afternoon, much of the conversation the men and women sported hushed jokes or discussion of tactics, an entire table covered with papers, scribbles, maps of the surrounding area, and schematics for land craft the Legion had proven to favor over others. Seated by herself on the other side of the cafe was a woman, 5'3 and of slim build, whatever muscle tone she sported hidden beneath a flight jacket, a look of contemplation on her features as she busied herself trying to make a tower of cards. Emma, as such was her name, was one the Team Leads that the company had on staff, and the one who was the go-to when it came to organizing Wildcard into the air or having to play middleman between boot and higher-up. A muted 'shit' could be heard as the tower came tumbling down, just as her earpiece crackled to life, Booker's curt voice coming in loud and clear. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, word just came in of the first job. Thirty-minute grace period, get whatever you need done and make your way to brief. Pilots, be ready for wheels-up immediately after the brief."


CatJones Jackson123 Cierra Kyrenka PanoramicDemon Specialist​

 

[Jackson123]

Enfield AFB

Briefing room

The briefing room is filled with a low hum of anticipation as pilots and crew members find their seats.

Alfred "Flush" McMillan, a seasoned tomcat pilot at the age of twenty-seven, entered the room exuding confidence. Adjusting his flight suit with a casual air, he cast a quick scan across the room, searching for his partner-in-crime, Jeanette "Soprano" Simmons, a sassy blonde beauty of twenty-four.

Whispering to himself, he murmured, "Alright, Soprano, let's see what kind of mood she's in today."

Before he had a chance to locate her, Soprano, sporting a mischievous smirk, stealthily crept up behind him. A light tap on his shoulder jolted Flush, eliciting a momentary startle, swiftly followed by a chuckle.

"Boo! Did I scare you, Flush?" Soprano teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Flush, grinning ear to ear, refused to admit defeat. "You wish! I was merely caught off guard, that’s all."

They shared a genuine laugh before finding adjacent seats. Flush patted the empty spot beside him, inviting Soprano to join him.

"So, Soprano, you bring your A-game today?" he quipped, his voice laced with playful banter.

Arching an eyebrow, Soprano met his gaze and retorted with a touch of sass, "Always, Flush. Can't have our adoring fans disappointed, can we?"

Flush's eyes scanned the room, taking in the expressions etched on the faces of their fellow pilots. His voice lowered as he leaned closer to Soprano.

"You know, Soprano, I've got a feeling we're about to make quite the entrance. The Crimson Legion won't know what hit 'em," he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A smirk tugged at Soprano's lips as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed in confidence. Her tone dripped with amusement.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll tremble in their boots when they hear the mighty roar of our engines. Or perhaps they'll surrender immediately to save themselves from the embarrassment,” she jibed, her words laced with a mixture of pride and playfulness. “As long as your reckless maneuvers don’t get us killed, I've got your back, as always."

Flush's grin widened, appreciating Soprano's quick wit. He nudged her gently, their playful banter a testament to their shared trust.

"Well, you do have a voice that could shatter glass. Maybe you can serenade them instead of dropping bombs," he suggested, his voice filled with mock seriousness.

Soprano rolled her eyes, but a flicker of amusement danced in her gaze. It was clear that Flush's antics never failed to elicit a response.

"Save the jokes for when we're in the sky, Flush. I don't need you distracting me from our mission," she quipped, her tone teasing but laced with an underlying determination.

Flush raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"Who, me? Distract you? I'm as serious as they come, Soprano," he replied, his voice tinged with mischief.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the weight of the impending mission faded away.

"By the way," he leaned in, his voice laced with amusement. "Think this briefing will be any more exciting than the last one? I'm still trying to recover from the sheer boredom."

Soprano rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, an impish glint in her own.

"Oh, please, Flush. You know how much you adore those PowerPoint presentations. Nothing gets your adrenaline pumping quite like a well-crafted bar charts and maps."

Their banter filled the room, laughter mingling with camaraderie as they teased one another.

 

[CatJones]

Marina West
​

Cascadia had the perfect weather for naps, this was something that Marina had decided months ago. The gentle sunlight creeping through the window of the barracks blanketed her bunk in golden light. The warmth and her own mulish sleep habits made even the immeasurable light of the sun unable to wake her. She squirmed around on top of her bunk, trying her best to ignore the sirens call of duty. As much as she wanted to pretend that she didn't hear the Enfield's PA system calling a general muster, she couldn't. She was a heavy and sound sleeper but that veterans edge that makes such calls immutable was more powerful then her own self agency. Stifling a minor yawn, she rolled over on to her side and slid her legs out of her bunk. Like all bunk houses in the military the world over, her cot came with a simple footlocker to hold her clothes and personal effects. Dipping into it she changed into her flight suit and pocketed a water bottle and grabbed a chocolate pudding from it.

Like a somnambulist, she slid her boots on and began to make her way to the briefing room, barely reacting quick enough to be able to avoid the many enlisted personnel scuttling around the base. A quick walk down a few halls and she was at said briefing room. Opening the door just enough to slide in before closing it behind her, she was surprised to she wasn't the last to arrive. It wasn't a great distance from the bunk house but she was used to being the last one in as she got every minute of sleep she could squeeze out. She glanced at her fellow pilots, McMillian and his...WSO? RIO? ASO? CSO? What was he name again? Marina mentally kicked herself for not remembering. Oh, well, nothing she could do about it now. Better if she greeted the room instead of any one individual and show her lack of manners.

"Mornin'." She grumbled, not caring if at actually was still early in the day or even the afternoon. She needed time to wake up and was hoping that the others would take their full half hour to arrive, giving her time to warm up. She slid into an empty chair, pulling the lid off her pudding and folding it into a makeshift spoon. She slowly spooned it into her mouth, savoring the chocolate flavor as she did her best to focus her half-asleep mind. She briefly considered asking the others if this was the real deal or another training exercise. She didn't mind either way, more airtime was always welcome but it was nice to be prepared.

She sat quietly, half listening to the rest of the room as she waited.

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: Enfield AFBHe hadn't been doing much. Since their move to Enfield, they had been busy setting it up and making it 'home' while they waited for their first job. It was a difficult at first, but even Claude was surprised by how quickly Rose Company managed to clean things up. Some of the mercs even started decorating the common rooms and personalizing their quarters. He was pretty sure he even saw a couple of people moving a foosball table into one of dorms...

Claude knew once they were done settling in things would get busy, and he was right. Maybe the foosball table was a sign that people were ready to go because Rose Company called them into a briefing room only a few days after that. It was exciting, if not a little nerve racking. While he had done some jobs before, this was his first time being involved with what was clearly becoming a civil war. The others have had their experiences, so most seemed calm if not relaxed if their bantering was any indication. It made him feel like he and his inexperience stuck out all the more.

Nevertheless, he didn't let it show as he sat down quietly. He glanced down at the dirt under his nails and frowned before subtly working to clean them. He didn't have much else to occupy him while they waited anyways.

 

[Cierra]

Renart Perreault

​

Renalt slowly pulled his cigarette from his mouth, his sky blue eyes unfocused and staring at a point across the runway. He was, as he was want to do most days, standing outside of the hangar that housed his plane. For someone who moved around as much as he had in the past, the familiarity of his plane made any base he stayed at feel something similar to home. He brought his cigarette back up to his mouth, inserting between his thin lips and taking one long, last drag from it. It was his second since breakfast, which meant that it was a slow day so far. He withdrew it once more, dropping it to the asphalt and stepped on it as he strode into the hangar's open doors. The hangar was neatly organized, not by the ground crew but rather by him. His morning since breakfast had been tidying up the hangar where his plane was stowed.

He was never thanked for the cleaning he did, or if he was he never noticed nor heard it. It didn't matter to him either way. On the right side of the hangar was his plane, and a few others that he wasn't entirely sure to who they belonged. Approaching his plane's nose, he took hold of a bottle of glass cleaner and a rag that he had left there before his smoke break. A small service-ladder led up into the F/C 16's cockpit. The F/C 16 wasn't his first plane. It was his second since joining Cascadia and the third in his career. He had no particular attachment to it but the private sector had them in spades since the Cascadia Conflict had wrapped up and the money from his career as a bounty hunter had made acquiring it a simple errand. The glass lined polycarbonate canopy opened, swinging upward towards the rear of the fuselage.

There were plenty of things to go over while he was in the cockpit itself. He set the rag and cleaner down on the seat as he reached underneath it. Beneath the seat was a simple plastic bar, fastened to the seat by a set of wing nuts. Undoing one, the Survival Rifle he kept there fell down on the side of his hand. He pulled it out, though it was a rifle, it was collapsible. For stowage, the barrel and receiver fit into the stock. Running a hand over it, a small amount of oil clung to the palm of his hand. It was, just as he had put it away, in good condition. Feeling the butt, his fingers fit into a groove towards the toe, a simple snap latch to hold it close. Clicking it in, the rubber butt of the stock flipped up. The assembly of the rifle stared at him from its shell, like a turtle lifted by a curious child. The magazine was attached to the inside of the stock, a thin Velcro strap holding it in place. He could see the golden .22 caliber rounds in the magazine. Six shots wasn't a lot but it could be the difference between life and death.

Closing the rifle back up, he placed it back into its holder under the seat and locked it in place. Climbing into the plane, he stood on the seat as he reached up to clean the optical glass. A quick spritz and some wiping, and the spotless glass was checked off a mental list for the daily duties. He paused for a moment, staring back at the planes vertical stabilizers. Painted on the outside was the emblem he had chosen for himself. A sun bisected at a vertical angle by a chain. He had never been an artist but he was proud of his work. He stepped back out of his plane and onto to the service-ladder when the metallic slam of a door being thrown open. Renalt snapped to look at the source. The ground crew was filtering in at a break neck speed. As they approached his place, one of the crew chief opened his mouth to speak but the announcement system cut him off.

A sharp hiss of static before they spoke, "Alright ladies and gentlemen, word just came in of the first job. Thirty-minute grace period, get whatever you need done and make your way to brief. Pilots, be ready for wheels-up immediately after the brief." Another hiss of static. Renalt stared at the speaker high up on the wall. He was already adorned in his flight suit, choosing to wear that over his personal clothes while working on his plane. He climbed down the ladder, only to have the crew chief take his place. They were used to Renalt's quiet personality at this point and felt no need to say anything to the man. Renalt began to walk out of the hangar the way he came in.
Enfield wasn't the largest bass he had been at. Presidia's main facilities held that honor. As he walked through the base exterior, barely paying attention to the crews moving around him. It didn't take long to reach the briefing room, though he had barely even noted what specific route he had taken to arrive there. Letting himself in, he noted he wasn't the first to arrive. Punctuality was a trait he attempted to cultivate as best he could, every day of the week. He recognized a few of his fellow pilots, from Rose Squadron, though not all of them had gathered yet. With the weight of why they were assembling, he didn't bother with any greetings. Instead, he chose a seat closer to the front of the room, where the briefing would be delivered from.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Enfield AFB
She supposed it couldn't last forever, and though she briefly mourned the loss of her pyramid of cards, she was glad they finally had their first job on their plate. Emma had to swing by her bunk to swap into her flight suit and boots, a quick last-minute check of her person before making her way towards the briefing. The rest of the kit came before take-off, and she could usually toss it on in record time so there was no reason to over-preparing like an oddball. She stopped at her locker to grab a protein bar, quickly tearing the plastic open and taking a bite of the chocolate brick in her grasp..not the greatest brand, but it had a sense of nostalgia for her. She quickly made her way towards the briefing, the handful of boots from the Cascadian garrison she saw on her way there were moving with a fair deal of haste towards whatever their tasking they may have.

Shuffling into the briefing she raised a hand in passing greeting towards the other pilots, starting her way towards the front of the room. There was Flush and Soprano cracking jokes and speaking easily like usual, not that she was one to complain about high morale from anyone. She gave a nod in their direction as she addressed them, her tone even-keeled and somewhat soft as she spoke, "Mornin' both of ya." It only took a few more steps until she passed over near Marina, another nod of her head and another 'Mornin'. Emma lived by a few simple philosophies, and one of them was to say hello or good morning to her teammates, Dust Mother willing there was time and chance to say such. Next up was Claude...and while Emma wasn't the same woman who was full of taunt and spark like she used to be, it was a rite of passage to poke and prod at a new pilot. At least by her life lessons with the Swans, though Rose Company didn't exactly do so. Just meant she had to do it herself. "Mornin' kid. Seem a bit tense this mornin', good over there?" There was a little wink towards him as if to say it was all in good fun before she reached the front, settling into an open seat beside Renart. She honestly had no problems with the man, and his direct and stoic nature was one she could relate more to at this point in her life. All the same... "Mornin'."

She went silent after that, save for the occasional chewing of the protein bar she was nursing in her hand, the soft crinkle of the plastic wrapper just in time as the lights dimmed, a familiar figure walking towards the front. Andrea 'Thorn' Booker, the no-nonsense head for Rose Company had the sort of presence that seemed to instill silence into a room if she so wished it, or use a sense of natural charisma to erupt it into an impassioned fury if necessary. Tall and lanky at 6'2, mocha-skinned, and brown eyes that pierced straight into one's soul when she spoke...there were few in Rose Company who were willing to get under her skin. Booker's background was constantly in question as she didn't speak much about it, but what was known for certain is she used to be rather high in the chain of command for a military force at one point, potentially giving answers to her way of holding herself and attitude. "Alright, simmer down. I'll keep this brief, you know the background to our hiring at this point anyway. Two weeks ago, the Crimson Legion secessionist state managed to capture the Caesar Radar Station on the west coast. Unfortunately, the station has been used to great effect in disrupting Cascadian supply lines, with civilian vessels and convoys being taken hostage and supplies ransacked because of it. While we currently don't have the sort of force to knock out the entire base, that won't be our object."

As she spoke the screen at the front of the room lit to life, an orange holographic display showcasing a mapping of the location and estimated ground force locations and stationary defenses. Flat lands and a nearby city were displayed, before zooming in to focus on the radar station in question. "The Cascadians want us to wipe out the radars at the facility. While the state would prefer to retake the base, ground forces are currently otherwise occupied, and the nearby naval base means a naval assault would be too costly. I'd prefer we have the terrain on our side, but that wouldn't be the case today. Caesar station boasts high-powered radar that, while it's no Solana Communications Array, it's still nothing to scoff at. Our approach is going to hit hard, and hit fast, before leaving the AO. We're not there to rack up a kill count, but if you want the extra zero's on the paycheck we are weapons-free for anyone standing in your way. Wildcard will be hitting the actual base from the south, we'll have the other teams causing an initial distraction to the north, so hit them while their back's turned. We're looking at an estimation of twenty-five radar systems, and we need to knock them all out. Granted, this won't be a permanent fix, it's only a stop-gap measure. But it'll give Cascadia enough breathing room to work around the Legion, and not have to worry about their own comms being intercepted as often. AWACS Darkstar will be on site to provide support and mission updates. If there's any questions, air em out now, otherwise get ready to take off. I want wheels up in five once you're out of this room."
CatJones Jackson123 Cierra Kyrenka ​

 

[Jackson123]

Flush and Soprano exited the briefing room. As they walked down the corridor, Flush leaned toward Soprano with a playful smile. "Well, Soprano, looks like we'll be crashing the party while they're still setting the table."

Soprano chuckled, her voice infused with a hint of sarcasm. "Oh, Flush, you always know how to make an entrance. Just try not to crash the whole plane while you're at it."

Flush feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Crashing? Come on, Soprano, you know I'm the epitome of smooth flying."

Soprano raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Smooth flying, huh? Is that what they call it when you narrowly avoid hitting the trees during those low-altitude maneuvers?"

“Hey, you know those trees needed a little trim anyway. I was just doing them a favor.”

Soprano rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She shot back with a quick retort, "Oh, Flush, you always know how to make me laugh. Just remember to keep those maneuvers in check. I don't want to lose my lunch."

Flush pretended to be wounded by Soprano's comment, clutching his heart dramatically. "You wound me, Soprano. My maneuvers are a work of art. You should feel honored to witness them."

Soprano raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on her face. "Oh, I'm honored, Flush. Truly. Maybe one day you'll even manage to land without shaking the entire runway."

Flush feigned offense, clutching his chest again. "You wound me deeper, Soprano. My landings are deck qualified navy tradition."

Soprano laughed, her voice filled with amusement. "Oh, I'm sure it is."

Their banter faded as they reached their aircraft, their minds now fully focused on the task at hand.

The ground crew are already preparing the tomcat for sortie, ground power and air connected. As they reached their jet, Flush scanned the ground around the aircraft for any potential FOD hazards. Soprano followed closely behind, her eyes keenly observing the tarmac for any stray objects that could pose a threat.

Once the external check was complete, Flush climbed into the cockpit, his movements fluid and efficient. He settled into the pilot's seat, adjusting the harness to ensure a secure fit. Soprano, as the RIO, followed suit, occupying the rear seat and securing herself with equal precision.

Soprano 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. Flush switch on the oxygen knob for the front seat.

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

“Loud and clear, Soprano”

After Soprano 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, Flush had finished with the instruments and warnings check, and ejection seats are armed. The engines started running at idle, the right engine whirred to life first, then the left one. Their powerful roar reverberated the air around them. With the engines running smoothly, Flush performed a final check of the control surfaces, ensuring that the ailerons, elevators, and rudder responded correctly to his inputs.

“Disconnect ground power. I’m closing the canopy.” Flush said to the ground crew chief, who then gave him a thumbs up as confirmation. After which the polycarbonate canopy slowly descended and locked into place, the thunderous engine sound became muffled.

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

“Soprano, how’s the INS going?” He asks over the comm in the helmet.

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

“Take your time. No hurry.” Flush said while he 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.” Flush can hear the confidence in the voice of his RIO.

Taking off from the runway almost doesn’t feel right for Flush. As a naval aviator that served on carriers, his muscle memory had somehow connected “setting throttle to full afterburner” to the shock of catapult and the G-force firmly squeezing his 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.

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: Enfield AFBWhile he had no intimate interactions with his teammates, it seemed that his arrival activated some sort of hive mind; and the hive mind apparently loved to take the piss out of Claude. Like now. Green eyes narrowed dangerously at Patience as Claude’s face turned an interesting shade of red. His new coloring apparently made the withering glare he was giving Patience a comical look if the slight widening of her shit-eating grin was any indication. He had just enough decorum to resist giving her the bird. He was a professional after all.

He crossed his arms as he sat back and seethed, but it didn’t last long. Booker entered and began the presentation right on time. As images came up, Claude found himself uncrossing his arms and leaning forward in interest. It seemed simple enough. He doubted that there would be any major problems, unless someone fucked up. He tapped his knee as he leaned back. This could be a good opportunity to really solidify his place on the team. That, and get them to stop calling me “kid”.

He flinched as the lights kicked on suddenly. The others didn’t seem fazed as he heard Flush and Soprano chat animatedly as they exited. By the time Claude was done rubbing his eyes back into focus, they were gone. Well, time to get to work. Rushing down the halls back into his room, he hurriedly put on his flight suit and boots before once again rushing down the halls; this time, headed for the hanger that housed his plane. Thankfully, he kept his more important stuff in his cockpit.

Before his ass even touched the seat, Claude was already shoving his oxygen mask on his face, strapping on his safety gear, and clicking his helmet onto his head. He quickly fumbled to make sure his gun was still secured in its harness under his seat. Loaded. Safety on. Good. His fingers nervously settled into position on the yoke as his free hand started flipping switches. The engine roared to life as workers quickly moved the equipment around his plane out of the way. Cruising out of the hanger but not a step more, he listened to his comms as Flush and Soprano approached the runway. He let out a breath to settle his nerves and waited for the command to approach the runway.

 

[Mineczka]

Eka Mentari

As the morning dawn slowly crept it's way through the hangar, the sound of a radio playing would resound through the large building, alongside the pings and bangs of regular engine maintenance, and repair. It wasn't uncommon for Eka to service her plane, more so when she senses an operation coming, it's never proven her wrong before, and today was no different. Hours into the maintenance, Eka heard the base's PA loud and clear, a briefing in thirty minutes. Rolling herself from under the engine, the pilot would attempt to wipe away the grunge from her face, 'Damn... Guess I have to look presentable...' She'd think before rising, and spending the thirty minutes to get her F/C-15 in working order, before sprinting her way to the briefing room, as the last to arrive, she'd slip in and remain to the back of the room, just as the lights began to dim...

Listening along, Eka made note of what they were, a probing attack from the North, spreading enemy lines thin while the southern assault presses onto the base. They had no other noteworthy objectives, though getting kills did add to the pay, a smirk came from Eka's face at the mention, her job, and the job of her team was to provoke the hornet's nest, and keep the attention long enough for the assault to sneak up the rear, and destroy the targets with impunity. Simple and clean as that.

Leaving the conference room, Eka would make her way to the lockers, where the overalls she wore changed out to the flight suit, and a G-suit layered on top of it, as she got herself ready, around her neck and shoulders came a black shawl, embroidered with a gold pattern, before the rest of her equipment came with, she wasn't sure what would happen but, it was best to be prepared for anything. As she walked back to the hangar, Eka took a breath, a sortie of this caliber was always something that worried Eka deep down, and the though of how many of her companions would be shot down during was always on her mind...

Returning to the hangar, Eka would do a quick check of her craft's engines, before climbing to the cockpit and beginning her start-up sequence, one last check, as the turbines whirred to life, in the meantime, Eka would adjust her helmet, strapping on the oxygen mask with one final breath, idling behind one of the other planes as she waited to taxi, calling to the tower, her voice keeping it's thick Oceanic accent, "Tower this is Rose-6, ready to taxi at your discretion." As she waited for a reply, Eka would tinker with her systems, eventually lowering her visor to the sunlight.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Enfield AFB
As Booker delivered the briefing in her usual punctual and to-the-point fashion, she left the ground open for a question, clarification, or for anyone to say their piece. However, there was no such thing to come and pilots started to file out of the room. Once they hit the main hall they went from a calm walk to a rushed jog or run to their bunks or the hangers to get whatever gear they needed. After all, Booker had said wheels up in five, and no one was crazy enough to make that wheels up in six. As soon as Patience left the room she made like many other pilots did, rushing off towards the lockers. Cramming the rest of her protein bar into her mouth she opened up a locker. G-suit on over the flight suit, pistol in case of emergencies adjusted on her person to a safe but easy-to-access holster, steel-toed boots steadily thudding on the ground as she rushed towards the hangers. She could hear Flush and Soprano still cracking jokes as they made their way where they were going...at least she could always tell where two of her team members were at any given time in the base, just listen for laughs.

Making her way towards her jet, she couldn't help but sport a small smile at the familiar sight of the F/D-14...it was a simple model of a jet, no bells or whistles compared to some of those fly-by-wire systems or an AOA system, but it hadn't failed her since she'd replaced her last craft after the attack on Prospero. Right at the tail was a silhouette image of a nun in prayer, her emblem of the most ironic proportions...the nickname of Patience had grown on her. It was when someone called her 'Sister Patience' that it was pushing the irony just a bit in her opinion. A quick check of her systems before she shimmied her way up into the cockpit. Fitting on her helmet, mask, and other equipment she took a deep breath. The side of her helmet had been decorated with the same nun to one side, though this variation slowly faded away into embers and dust towards the back of the helmet...hell of a statement. There hadn't been time to talk someone into the WSO seat after her last WSO had called her quote 'A total fuckin' maniac who I'm never flying with again'. She took a deep breath, eyes shutting for but a brief few moments. No...it was fine. She had her wingmen, and as long as that fact remained true she was still good for the air.

Keying into her comms she took a few deep breaths as she did a few last-minute checks of equipment...everything was fine on those fronts, nothing to be worried about that she could see. "Tower, this is Wildcard-1. Can I get off the ground already?" Members of the team such as Flush, Soprano, Claude, and Eka could hear an almost tired sort of laugh from the Tower at Patience's question, something similar to a dad who had been told the same joke for the five hundredth time by their kid and only laughed because it's all he could do. "Rose-6, confirmed for taxi. Wildcard-1, confirmed for taxi. Patience, is there ever going to be a day you use the proper lingo for this crap?... Whatever. FLush and Soprano are already away. Claude, if you're on the line, get moving as well. AWACS Darkstar will be bringing up the rear."

The roar of her engines sent a cool chill of comfort through her very body, like a hug from someone she cared about or sweet comfort food. "What do you mean? That's as proper lingo as you're going to get out of me. It gets the point across, doesn't it?" Giving the jet a little encouragement she made her way down the runway, pulling on the throttle to get off the ground and heading west towards their objective. As she rose off the ground to meet the sky, a familiar female voice came over the comms. Peppy, energetic, and full of positive energy...the other half of Rose Company's command staff, and honestly the much more friendly half. "Alrighty, Wildcard Squadron! This is your lovely AWACS Darkstar speaking, I'll be off the ground after all of you. You know the drill, I'll coordinate the effort, and you lot don't get blasted out of the sky. The expected arrival time is within an hour since we have to fly around the radar range for our flank. Hope you're all comfy. We had to cancel the in-flight entertainment and snacks, weren't in the budget, sorry about that. If you guys want though, I can sing you a song to make the time pass." "I don't know, let's put it to a vote. Who wants to have AWACS sing us all a song for the trip? I'll start, I vote Nay." "You're a buzzkill."

​

CatJones Cierra Jackson123 Kyrenka Mineczka

 

[Mineczka]

Eka Mentari

Taking a moment as she waited, Eka would do her last checks, looking out the still raised canopy as she pressed on each pedal, removing her mask for better ease as she glanced between, as dear as her mirror was lovely and all, but... It's best to see with one's own eyes. Seating herself again, Eka would reapply her harness, though reach into her leg pocket, fiddling with something before her radio crackled into her ears,

"Rose-6, confirmed for Taxi."

Setting the small item down Eka would lower her canopy, and begin her taxi, at the head of the runway, she'd take a moment, mumbling a couple of words in her native tongue under her breath before launching, full afterburner towards the end of the runway, before pulling her stick back, and climbing vertically for a brief moment, getting to the proposed altitude and then maintaining course. Reaching for the small wrapper, Eka would take off her mask, before jamming the entire contents of the granola into her mouth, before reapplying her mask. Happily chewing along as she listened to the AWACS briefing. No in-flight snacks or movie... How boring. Though a smile came from Eka as she heard the mention of a song, hearing Patience decline immediately, Eka would switch on her radio, singing gently,

"Cast away your worries my dear, for tomorrow comes, a new day~" She'd begin, gently continuing her gentle song, reminiscing the times she had heard it sung to her, "Listen close, my Son of the West, for your destiny lies above~" Continuing for a few moments before ending, with a light chuckle, "Alright Darkstar, your turn~!" She'd call out, glancing over to Patience, knowing she struck a nerve.

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: Enfield AFBClaude couldn't help the annoyed sigh that left his lips. Just using names now huh? It wasn't like it mattered anyways. Callsigns were meant to protect people with identities. Kids who barely lived a life outside of a base didn't really have that luxury. As soon as Patience was clear, he let his plane slowly roll onto the runway. Glancing behind him, he could see Echo patiently waiting for her turn. The Tower's voice buzzed in his ear, clearing him for take-off. Straightening up slightly, he tightened his knuckles and directed his Accipiter forward. The roar of his wheels on the pavement grew louder and louder as he gained speed before becoming an all consuming noise as the plane left the ground and quickly ascended. As more fighters joined the sky, Darkstar took this opportunity to start having fun.

For a bunch of professionals, they sure do love messing around. Rolling his eyes at their banter, he discreetly turned the volume on his comms down. Rose Company's voices were muted, but just barely. Ignoring them was the best option. Any response he provided when they were like this would be an invitation for some ribbing. Last time he had offered his input, he was forced to listen hardened mercenaries belt out "Baby Shark" for two hours despite his pleas for mercy. He had to admit, the people employed at Rose Company were...tenacious; but he had that blasted song stuck in his head for at least a month due to that. Not to mention all of the shark themed children's items he'd constantly find in his locker or his bunk. No, he'd keep his mouth shut this time around, lest he find his favorite coffee mug replaced with a sippy cup....again

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Leaving Enfield AFB; Enroute to Objective
Emma Saylor; Patience
Over comms there came the definitive sound of a heavy siiigh from Patience at Echo jumped straight into singing a song. Through the canopies and flying in formation, the other woman could see the flight lead shake her head like a disappointed parent. "Darkstar, I will give you five percent of my pay from his op if we don't have an entire game of sing-song." "Ohhh tempting. How's ten percent sound?" "Fine. Sorry, Echo, but the vote was a tie it'd seem, and Gnat wasn't keep to toss his vote in this time." As the team came up to speed, the AWACS was comfortable to cruise behind the group keeping its distance to ensure it stayed well outside of the actual combat zone. After all, mobile command getting shot down was a terrible idea. "Well, we have an hour to kill and now Darkstar is getting an extra zero on her paycheck...how 'bout a chat about strategy for this op? Thorn wanted us off the ground right after brief, not a whole lot of time on terra firma to sort anything out. Best if we designate someone on interceptor duty if we're going after a radar station. The other teams should probably pull most of the aggression, but can't count on clear skies while we're knocking out radar dishes. Echo, you've more experience with CAS and ground targets...Gnat, how do you feel about putting the Acciptor through its paces this op?"

CatJones Cierra Jackson123 Kyrenka Mineczka ​

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: En RouteAt the sound of his call sign, Claude hurriedly turned his volume back up to an acceptable level. “Through it’s paces?” Oops. That came out a little too eager. He cleared his throat before speaking with a more even tone. “That’ll be no problem Patience.” His fingers flexed as he regripped his tiller. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart and the horrible sweating that began in his gloves. Calm down. This is nothing. You’re a member of this team it’s only expected that you get treated as such.

He swallowed, excitement bubbling in his chest despite his best efforts. “Am I getting a baby sitter this time?” His words’ harsh message were softened by the slightly detectable hopefulness in his tone. He licked his lips as his eyes strayed to Patience’s ship; a classic beauty. With only a glance, even the most untrained eye could see the care she put into her plane. Not to say there were people who didn’t take care of their shit, no; these planes were their livelihood after all. There was just something about how Patience cared for her plane, and it showed. “No offense, but I think sticking my happy ass with someone else won’t work well for this op.” Once again, his eyes strayed towards Patience and her partner as he all too eagerly waited for her response.

 

[Mineczka]

Eka Mentari

A huff would come from Echo, who heard Patience's bribe to Darkstar, before mentioning the planning of the operation, given the trio's expertise, Eka was best to attack ground targets, "Oh? Is it because I used to fly Attack Helicopters, Patience?" She'd ask, her voice easily showing the light sarcasm of her words, a feigned offence of course, "I can provoke the hornet's nest, so long as someone covers my tail." Glancing over to Patience, she'd look past towards Gnat, "That's where you come in, at least I won't babysit you, but, I'll watch your six so long as you watch mine~" She'd remark, "Otherwise, you'll have to be Patience's WCO for a mission or to, which from what I've heard, is quite the trip!" Ending her sentence with a laugh, Eka would take a breath, listening for any chatter as she'd let her gaze drift towards the horizon.

A beautiful blue sky as far as the eye could see, deeper than the oceans themselves, it was always a joy for Eka, to fly in any sky, whether it meant combat, or just simple travel and fun. The Air and Sea were her homes, and it showed, how she carried herself, how her tastes were, all the way down to her core, as lithe as she kept herself, Eka always made sure she had the strength to handle being in the water for longer periods of time, or even to swim whilst holding someone with her. After all, as her uncle had said, 'A plane can be replaced. Pilots cannot.' Taking another deep breath, Eka would hum to herself, gently singing another song to herself, to ease the tension in her wrists, and the nerves she had felt as she thought of the mission at hand, and the danger it poses...

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Enroute to Objective; Caesar Radar Objective
Emma Saylor; Patience
"Didn't stutter, Gnat. Through its paces. You're getting a chance to really earn your wings today. This is your first big contract, right? We're not flying against pirates or rag tag mercenaries. These are professionals, military pilots from Cascadian turncoats and some topline mercenaries. If you're really wanting to call yourself a proper ace, you need to down five of them. Show some class though, if they pop their chute, don't just turn them into a mist." As they reached a proper attitude and continued to gain on their speed, Patience scanned her control console with a quick once over glance, reaching up to re-affix some of the extra-strength duct tape that kept a picture in place of a motley crew of figures around a single fighter. As they cleared the cloud line, at least until they were close enough that they'd need to go in low to fly beneath the radar, her fingers flexed around the joystick in front of her. And slowly, ever so slowly and hidden from sight beneath her helmet and o2 mask...crept the slightest smile. God and Dust Mother, it felt right being in the air.

Her moment of borderline meditation was broken by the sound of her wingmen again, Darkstar having gone silent to presumably review battle data and ensure all systems were synced up properly. "Partly the reason, Echo. But you're also properly kitted for it. You still load a kit of UGBS right? Those aren't going to do you any service in a focused dogfight, may as well run em dry before any of us start wasting missiles. We'll both have you covered, I'll be taking hybrid schedule and support either of you as necessary. Gnat, you're not going to get a babysitter to answer your own question. We'll support you if you need it, but otherwise your sole duty is to drop birds out of the sky...anything gets too rough, I'll pull the heat off you. I can fend for myself."

To anyone who didn't know the flight lead that may have come across as bragging. 'I can fend for myself' mentality was best used by mavericks who got gunned down quickly, after all. However, for those who flew with Patience on a few ops before, such as her wingmen...it wasn't bragging if she could back it up. Patience may have been a jack of all trades to support as necessary, but her combat style was erratic and downright suicidal, often pulling G's that would black out the hardest of pilots or stunts that should have left her dead a dozen times over. It didn't matter if she had a squadron on her tail if they couldn't land a mark or crashed their own fighter trying to do so. Echo's adrenaline junky was more calculated than she let on, so perhaps the same was true for Patience. Or, perhaps, she was flying blind at all times in a high stress situation. It was hard to tell at this point in her life. Whatever her strategy was, she didn't share. It was really unfortunate for whatever WSO ended up with her, as some really did pass out until their return.

Speaking of, Echo's 'threat' of Gnat being in her backseat as a wizzo earned a scoff over comms. "You all act like I'm trying to kill my wizzo's. Not my fault they pass out," she dryly replied...even if it was, factually, entirely her fault.

Kyrenka Mineczka​

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: En RouteClaude winced at Echo's remark of being stuck as Patience's WCO. He might have been new to Rose Company, but he had already seen more than his fair share of how Patience liked to fly. He had even once made the mistake of trying to replicate one of her maneuvers. Once. Being stuck as her WCO sounded like a special sort of Hell. Hoping that his voice didn't betray his queasiness at the suggestion, he quipped back, "I'll have to pass on that one." Patience, ever the composed leader, barely responded to Echo's bait before confirming that he'd be flying solo; like a proper member of the team.

Claude squirmed in his seat a tiny bit. Try as he might, he couldn't quite keep his excitement contained. Breathe in...hold...breathe out...breathe in...hold...breathe out... It took a few repetitions for his heart rate to return to an appropriate range. He nodded as he responded, "Got it." Down at least five planes and don't be a sociopath, seemed simple enough. He tapped his fingers in a twitchy manner before speaking up again. "Drinks on Echo if we pull this off." A mischievous smile tugged at the edge of his lips. She wanted to play around? Fine, he can return the favor. His fingers once again began their slightly erratic tapping. Nerves were creeping in so at this point a little teasing was a welcome distraction; even if it was at his own expense. Nerves were only the beginning though. If he dwelled on it too long, other, much darker thoughts would slowly creep into his mind. Claude couldn't afford the hesitation those thoughts would bring right now.

 

[Pilgrim59]

LT. S. MORIARTY - SALMON -

WILDCARD 1-2

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cascadian Airspace

INTERACTION:

ManofManyRoles

The Wizzo had been particularly quiet throughout the entire briefing, homing in on the information given, as well as making sure to double-check the proper digits for the Tactical Information Display. Having been given an older craft, compared to their contemporary counterparts, the least Salmon could do was making sure the weapons control system were functional. Though, the more pressing concern was that of her pilot, whose reputation among the Weapons System Officers were less than amicable. For some reason, Salmon seemed to fair better than most, albeit at the cost of a few contusions to her head. But for the humble Albie, she was happy to ride along into any action. Slowly emerging from behind the panels, the woman responded to the idle banter while they cruised along the fluffy formation of clouds. "Uh. You ken that I can hear you guys back here right?" An Albie dialect managed to slip through the transmission.

"Dinnae worry none, Patience, I've always got your back! Though, courteously speaking, please defer to sharp bloody brakes instead of abusing your Ay-Oh-Ay. The plane captain's already on me arse about the busted ailerons the last time we landed."

As they ventured past a certain grid, Salmon plucked the cap of her ready-to-go marker and scribbled on the glass a series of numbers that only she could make sense of. Refering to their current heading on her visor and that of the TID screen, the folded map on her transparent left thigh pocket slipped forward at the behest of her fingers. Her eyes traced the grids, as she made a mental note of their current position, of which was now within quick-response-force's range of their area of operation. With a flick of a few switches, Salmon toggled their electronic countermeasures and weapon systems on standby. As the indicator flashed, she raised her voice.

"We are now within interception range of the AO. WCS and DECM on standby, Patience." She hummed, with her eyes darting across the glassed canopy to scan for any aircrafts not painted by IFFs.

Code by Nano

 

[Mineczka]

Eka Mentari

A scoff would come from Eka, as she slowly drifted from side-to-side a small bit, "Well, you have a point there... I did pack the UGBS-3s today... But..." She'd continue, looking over to Patience's plane, "I can make them just as effective as my SAA's in a dogfight, thank you very much!" With that, a confident laugh would come from Eka, who seemed to have no real care in the world at the time, "Don't worry too much for me~ It'd be good for them to learn what it's like to face someone like me~ Besides, I know what I am doing~!" She'd pause, hearing Gnat mention drinks were on her... Last she checked, her bank account ran perpetually empty from her constant repairs and work on her own aircraft, honestly it was a shock at times that it wasn't held together with duct tape. Scoffing again, she'd turn her attention to Gnat, jabbing back at his reply, "Wait, Gnat, are you even old enough to drink? I'd be more than willing to buy you a few sodas if that's what you want, pretty sure the vending machine was restocked last week!"

Then, Patience replied, which brought a small laugh from Eka again, "Well, according to them, they sure think you are!" Soon after, another voice chimed in, the WCO who sat in Patience's rear seat, Salmon, the only woman crazy enough to sit in that seat, and whose accent was nigh impossible to understand at times for Eka, then again, hers was not much better to the WCO's... What few words Eka could make out, however, Eka had no real reply for, as the majority of it seemed to be spoken to Patience, which brought Eka to her own panels, as she began fidgeting with a few bits and bobs, before her eyes set on the VMAX Switch, which at the time was sealed, three times over... Once with the usual safety wire, another with a zip-tie that Eka had applied at the behest of Darkstar, and a third part, installed by Booker as a final preventative measure to make sure there is absolutely no way Eka could flip that switch and practically destroy her own engines.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Entering AO: Caesar Radar Station
Emma Saylor; Patience
There was a soft huff over comms, the flight lead listening to her wingmen banter back and forth amongst each other. "You're breakin' my heart, Gnat. At least you're here for me, Salmon." The woman's slight southern drawl was an odd medley amongst the accents on comms. She was glad she had a knack for deciphering dialects, especially with her WSO having a thicker accent...otherwise her comms would have been unintelligible at any given time. Though, as Echo and Gnat picked at each other, there was the slightest little laugh over comms. it wasn't very lively, more of a tired little chuckle, but a laugh all the same. "I'm in agreement, Gnat. We pull this off, drinks are on Echo," she wasn't being genuinely serious with her tease, but she had to participate where it was good to do so. "It's alright, I'm sure we're cheap drinks. I'll take a water, Gnat can get his soda...honestly, the only one who might not be cheap is Salmon. Heaven forbid I jerk a turn too hard and she needs liquor for a headache. Don't worry though, Salmon. Still haven't found someone who's able and willing to fit an Ay-Oh-Ay on our fighter yet. I keep getting complaints that it'd be insane to do on a two-seater...everything you get out of me is just the brakes and high-g turns." Wait...hadn't she just said it wasn't her fault for the torment WSO's had!? As they drew closer to their objective with every passing moment Patience's tone drew more serious, losing it's very slightly more warm tone.

"Echo, you can try to nail a fighter with your bombs on your own time, save the ordinance for the objective until it's cleaned out. Don't run your munitions trying to pull that off. I have my own small ordinance of bombs as well, if the stations are sturdier than we're expecting." "Wildcard, this is Darkstar. We're entering our AO. The other sorties are engaged with Legion fighters. IFF's are engaged and up to date, you're good to go. I've even managed to spike into the comms, you're welcome. Give em' hell, ladies and gent!" At Darkstar's rather chipper all clear, it was perfectly timed with the sight in front of them as they broke through a cloud line that had obscured the sight. A furball had popped up to the north of the base, a sprawling system of twenty-five large radar disks, military barracks, landing strips, and emplaced defenses. There was also, unfortunately, no terrain advantage to speak of. Flat land and valleys far as the eye could see, the ocean off to the west of their current bearing. "I will remind everyone that your objective is a hit-and-run on those radar disks. Cascadia will want to be able to take over Caesar station again, so please don't level the barracks if you can avoid it. Level the radar, avoid the rest. Ground defenses are considered easy money though."

As the AWACS gave her report, Patience couldn't help but grin a bit behind her helmet and mask. A hand reached up as she gently flicked the switch to one of her weapon systems, fingers flexing around the joystick once again...before suddenly angling the F/D-14 into a nose dive with a sudden jerk that, honestly, Salmon should have come to expect and accept by now. "What do you mean we have fighters coming up from the south? Blasted mercenaries...re-route some of our fighters to engage. I want air defenses on that flight!" An irritated voice from the intercepted comm's line could be heard, somewhat reminiscent of a man chewing on gravel. All the same, the Legion was quick to work to reposition, additional sorties taking off from the ground to get into the fight as well as the flight getting a familiar noise... beep beep beep beep. "Well, they're quick on the response, those are SAM's coming online. Let's get to work, folks." Even as she spoke a streak of golden red was heading straight towards her, only for her to suddenly jerk the joystick to the right, sending the missile soaring right past her wing as she hooked out of the way at the last moment...hopefully Salmon padded her helmet again.

​

Kyrenka Pilgrim59 Mineczka

 

[Kyrenka]

Claude Allaway Location: Caesar Radar StationA little click of the tongue was all Patience got in response to her jab. However, Claude could feel himself turn a little red at Echo’s quip. “I am legal!” His accent was a getting thicker as he felt himself get heated. “I can drink beer! You all saw me drink beer last week!” He remembered vividly, because one of his fellow pilots once again took his glass and poured it into a sippy cup. I only looked away for a second! They were getting faster and more discreet. As soon as he figured out who the fuck was doing it, there would be Hell to pay. As Patience joined in, the brunette could feel his face begin to turn red, “I bet I can drink you all under the table too!” He fumed and fussed some more as they drew closer and closer, before finally settling down as they neared their objective.

Claude breathed in….and then out. The gravely voice of one of their opponents came through, barking commands as their presence became known. Suddenly, the roaring of his plane was lost to the roaring of his blood. Patience wasted no time in taking a turn that should have been illegal for her WSO’s sake. “Right then,” he murmured to no one in particular. Twisting his tiller carefully, he maneuvered himself higher in the air as more muddled headed towards them. No terrain advantage. He would have to rely on skill alone. “Think they’re using infrared or laser?” His radar beeped in warning. Claude waited before twisting his accipiter to the side to avoid it. While Patience was able to make impossibly sharp and sudden turns and twists, that quite frankly broke the laws of physics, Claude was able to perform movements that were a bit more finessed; turns and twists that were well within what the laws of physics allowed, but fast and unpredictable enough that hitting him was like trying to hit a gnat. In another life, he could’ve been an air show pilot.

“Anyone got eyes on where those SAMs are coming from?” They had a short window of time before their enemy’s wheels were off the ground. Taking those pesky missiles out now would prevent some close calls later. His eyes scanned the ground before snapping towards his radar as it beeped out another warning. Once again, he clutched his tiller tightly as he twisted out of the way. Claude clenched his teeth; time was running out.

 

[Pilgrim59]

LT. S. MORIARTY - SALMON -

WILDCARD 1-2

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cascadian Airspace

INTERACTION:

ManofManyRoles Kyrenka

"Money easier cheated than earned, but I'll need it for me irrepairable head- Bloody Jesus, Mary and JOSEPPPHHHHHH-" Salmon muttered under her oxygen mask before the abrupt descent jerked her head back, ushering in an Albie cry of sensational output. She could feel her heart sliding past her esophagus, while she tried to catch her breath. Contrary to the name, her pilot's callsign was anything but patience, as the Wizzo found herself strapped in for the ride. Her gloved fingers refused to relinquish its claims from the forward panel's handles. But before she could voice her concern in a less-polite manner, Salmon's eyes lit up, as her visor was set ablaze with amber icons going off in various directions as they dipped below cloud concealment. The constantly blaring alarms only prompted the woman to shift her focus to the immediate threat before them. As the monitor's display finally registered the missiles in the air, she took a deep breath, saving her lungs for the inevitable response to come.

She tightened her grips, and as expected, their craft rolled right upon the missile's spiral. It seemed that the Wizzo was correct in her assumption when it came to countermeasures - they were practically going to be mothballed by the definition of insanity that was Patience. The Fox-Delta Fourteen recovered from its maneuver, thanks to their throttled fall from the heavens which gave them ample speed to glide past the remaining missiles. Of course, even that spectacular performance came at a cost, as Salmon could sense her braincells capitulating her already damaged head - what was left of it anyways. Even with the practical paddings she had fashioned for herself, that was another headbang to the canopy registered for the Wizzo. At the very least, they did not go up in flames on first contact.

"By the end of our contract, you'll find only a tattie in your back seat. Because Patience is about to turn me into a vegetable!" She complained, while recovering from the light bump to get a bearing on the SAM sites on the ground. Tracing the missile trails, Salmon pulled up on their craft's navigation pod, providing them with a wide angle of their forward surroundings. As screen animated the encroaching movements, Salmon began to manually tag the SAM sites and anti-air installations that were not yet identified but were picked up on her thermal-imaging system, and relayed the coordinates to their AWACS promptly with a touch of a few buttons. "Wildcard 1-2 to Darkstar - sending you direct thermal visuals on additional defensive systems. Please update them as quickly as you can before Wildcard Actual here try something funny! My helmet paddings are not Patience-proof, over!" Despite her yappings, the Wizzo tried to remain focused and attempted to assess their situation with scrutinous eyes darting about.

"Oi, Gnat! I got a twenty on two missile trails, low - to your two-o'clock!" The Wizzo gave the Accipiter's pilot the heads-up, satisfying his inquiry.

"What is that I smell? It reeks of Sidewinders and hostile intentions." Salmon said over the comms, as she threw her head back and forth to scan the ground below them with her own eyes, now that they were within visible range. Pressing her face across the canopy from left to right, Salmon tried to locate the source of her troubling intuition. Before long, she found her answer.

"Bloody Legos. Eleven o'clock, Patience! All Wildcards, be advised, we got fighters in the air closing in from the northwest! Small flight formation trailing that meadow, can't get a pos-ID on their specs at this range. But they've definitely got a temporary airstrip somewhere around here - no eyes yet!"

Code by Nano

 

[Tayner]

Lt. William “Icarus” McBryde​

Caesar Radar Station, Cascadia

Will had been going through the motions all day once they got the call to sortie. He’d seen combat before, dealing with a few pirates or two-bit pilots who Rose Company had been contracted to handle, but not an operation this size. Yeah, sure he had participated in plenty of mock-up exercises back in his time with the Air Force, that training was the only thing guiding him now, but even then there was still something inside of him that felt off.

“Hey, Will.” Jeff called out from the back seat. “What’s going on? We’ve been up here for almost an hour now and you haven’t said a word. Not getting cold feet, are ya?” He prodded. If anyone else said that, Will might have taken it at face value, but he knew Jeff meant nothing uncouth from the remark.

“First big job, Jeff. Just thinking about all the things I’m gonna spend my paycheck on.” Will replied, the inflection of his voice betraying his attempted bluff. A few moments of silence between the two passed, only the humm of the engines and beeps of the instruments audible before Will heard a hearty chuckle.

“Just fly the plane, Will, ‘ol Lucky here needs a new pair of boots.” Jeff said before letting out another chuckle.

“Just fly the plane, huh, that easy?” Will replied, sarcasm evident as he returned to his old self. They were growing close now, and the shrill of the RWR sounded as they entered the anti-air net around their objective. He heard Salmon call out two missile trails behind the new kid, Will craning his head and tilting his plane to identify the source. “Hold on!” Will called back to Jeff before evading the missiles that came their way, violently jerking the aircraft out of harm's way as the missile flew past their wing and exploded behind them.

“Gnat, I can make a run on the SAMs if you want to take care of those interceptors.” Will called over the radio as Jeff hit the master arm switch and started getting a STDM ready to fire.

 

[Mineczka]

Eka Mentari

Taking a moment, Eka would begin her final checks before going into the heat, tugging at her harness one last time, Eka would flick a few switches as Darkstar briefed the squadron on the mission details, precision was needed in this regard, as all that was to be destroyed today were the radars and SAMs, less so on the building instillations and the like. Giving a final acknowledgement, Eka would throttle her plane forward, easily reaching her top speeds for a brief moment, as Eka turned her stick hard, spinning her jet to where the canopy was facing down to the Earth. All the while she looked towards the ground, looking for the tracer smoke of the SAMs as they launched. Watching one fly for Patience, and another towards gnat, she'd reply in kind for Gnat's question, "I've found two, not sure where the others are! Engaging them now!" With those words, Eka would roll her F-15 towards the first of two targets, watching the SAM turn towards her, diving down, she could feel the nerves rise in her, the way she was doing this, it was like one of those World War 2 Dive Bombers, which made her particularly vulnerable to CWIS fire. Releasing the bombs, Eka would brake hard as she pulled the nose of her plane up, unsure the strike progress she would call out, "Payload released! Can I get eyes on the target?" Before turning her jet towards the other SAM.

Her body felt like lead as she felt her heart pound, a moment ago she could hear the trill sound of her jet's systems, she assuredly likely hit an over G situation as her vision slowly returned to normal, a small laugh came from her, almost as if this were fun for her, pushing body and machine to it's limits-- Another sound, the trill beeping of her RWR, followed by the mention of a missile coming her way from behind, "Sialan.... (Damn it)" She'd grumble in her native tongue, before veering her course to better avoid the missile, as it slowly approached, Eka would pull the nose of her plane up hard, sending the missile flying under her harmlessly, rolling back towards her target, she'd drop the nose of her plane towards the SAM site again, "Engaging the second active SAM site! Keep an eye for any others!" Eka would call, as she'd make her run on the SAM, releasing the bombs, this time for a confirmed hit, "Ic, I'll start provoking the nest, see if I can get some extra SAM's on me!" She'd continue, before turning towards the base once more and throttling forward towards it.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

Caesar Radar Station
Emma Saylor; Patience

Infrared or laser? She couldn't help but feel like the answer was always going to be 'yes' of course it's both. "I'd imagine the SAM's are coming from along base borders, Gnat, might have a few within the actual base. Follow the trails if targeting is off, they don't typically move." As poor Salmon tried to recover from her impromptu shake, rattle, and roll, Patience glanced over her shoulder towards her pilot in the back and then ahead again. She had to remain aware of both her wingmen, enemy airspace, the ground forces...so much to keep track of, but at this point it was second nature to her. And of course, as if to say 'I'm over here', Gnat would get a fresh batch of alerts as another SAM found him, locked on, and another missile was released into the air to track him down. "If it's any consolation Salmon, you'd make a cute vegetable," Patience dryly joked in response to her complaints. "But Patience-proof, really? You make it sound like I'm tryin' to kill ya." Despite her dry remarks the pilot had found herself a target in the form of a pair of SAMS on the ground.

There was of course the approach of flying overhead and dropping a payload on them...that might be more sensible. So of course Patience elected to not do that and the F/D-14 would find itself angled down towards the emplacements, nose lined up as systems beeped in the cockpit. "Salmon confirm lock is good," she inquired simply as she prepared to release a pair of missiles to knock out some ground crew. As soon as Salmon affirmed the lock there was the streak of missile trails as two left the swing-wing, a blossom of crimson fire erupting on the ground as the explosion shook the ground.

"Wildcard 1-2, this is Darkstsar. We've confirmed the information provided. Wildcard squadron, targets are updated courtesy of Patience's Wizzo. We also have confirmed sightings on fighters coming in from outside of base...guess they weren't keeping all their eggs in one basket. Expect extra company, Wildcard." "Ah, joy. Gnat, Salmon and I are going to assist on interception duty, holler if you need a direct assist. Icarus, Echo, focus on ground targets. We'll be home in time for lunch all goes well." As a SAM launched another missile to trail after her she flipped a countermeasure, a few flares jettisoned as she jinked to the left towards the oncoming enemy fighters. "Salmon, keep eyes on, let me know if I miss anything." As Echo soared by to deliver a payload to the ground she looked over, a nod to herself in the cockpit before she replied. "I've got eyes, that's a SAM site down. One out of...oh I don't know, a dozen? Dozen and a half if I had to guess?"

As the interceptor streaked forward, a missile came heading towards her head on from one of the responding fighters. It was quite a sight, watching that rocket blaze forward through the cockpit only for her to strike a sharp barrel roll as she jinked right, no doubt sending her wizzo's braincells scrambling for help again. Now she found her vision inverted, the jet upside down in the air as she made minor adjustments to her joystick to keep flying clear. After avoiding the first shot, Patience and Salmon had exactly .5 seconds to look into the cockpit of a fighter that flew right beneath them, a grin beneath her o2 mask. "Salmon, I'm counting a flight of six here, not counting what's being redirected towards us. Think we can knock them down before the main force diverts?"

"It's a flight of four. It cannot be THAT hard to shoot them down!" Despite Patience somewhat easy and carefree nature about the situation, the spiked comms gave them insight to the gruff voice from the other comms line again. Whoever the gentlemen was, he seemed rather irate that most of the fighting force had been tied up north and that this simple flight of four wasn't downed as soon as they entered the A.O.
Kyrenka Pilgrim59 Tayner Mineczka

​