Ace Combat: Ashes of War (IC/Closed)

[Hastur]

First Lieutenant Miriam “Rattler” Lochte
Vitoze, Emmeria // 13th December, 2015

---

Miriam responded with a quick thumbs up in between sips as the Doc began asking questions, the aerial gunner offering out both harder liquor and harder drugs in the same sentence. A sudden grin arose as she settled the bottle back down on the table. “I thought mixing painkillers and hard liquor was a dreadful idea? I don’t think the doctor is too keen on seeing me again soon by how he did my stitches.” Miriam joked before stiffening up again, aching nipped away as she mulled over the offer. “For now, I think I’m fine.” Her own hubris covered for the sharp stabs she felt as she waited for the low grade over-the-counter painkillers to kick in.

More people began congregating around the barbecue, the smell drawing them into the hanger. Familiar faces appear inbound. The helmeted ghost wandered over, looming close to the corner in which Miriam sat. She traded a bewildered eye with the pilot, catching her own dusky echo in the tinted visor. “You know it’s alright to take that stuff off now, right?” Miriam stated, a brief grimace wrinkling on her face for as she twisted to better engage with the faceless entity. She couldn’t recall ever actually seeing her out of the uniform, at least during the day. “Unless it’s because you have vampiric qualities, we aren’t getting scrambled soon. Or maybe it might be a good idea, Colonel Choleric might have some more suicide missions in his magic deck of cards.” Miriam scooted over on the seat, leaving an absence on the bench as an offering as she turned her attention elsewhere.

Two unfamiliar people emerged, both quickly establishing themselves professionally. Cortez and Smith had both come with the Tornado GR4, one bearing the grim reaper on its tail. Miriam simply exchanged a glimpse towards them as they went about their business, Miriam placing a mental wager on how long it would take before their tail art got vandalised as she signalled a particularly overdressed Neisha over.

[Kassaran]

Captain Romolo "Sciabola" Beninati
13 December, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

The flight back was quiet, save for the occasional warning light and alarm going off. Hydraulics had gone out in the damaged wing a while ago, but the auxiliary pumps and backup mechanicals quickly took over. As the approach to the airbase was being finalized, Romolo had begun to let his mind wander, his back seater taking over as the backup pilot. Paffuto had started to become far more familiar with the flight characteristics of the Phantom, just in time for them to likely be slipping out of it and into something a little more modern. As the taxied to their hangar, Sciabola's eyes narrowed, looking towards the distant shapes of a particular F-104 sat near one of the other hangar locations. The perfidious pilot had no doubt brought about a great streak of shame, never mind the illegality of his 'kill'. It had been murder, and while Romolo was a level-headed pilot overall, this one thing he had grown incredibly uncomfortable about. It was enough for even Paffuto to catch on.

"It'll probably become some sort of propaganda incident for the Estovakians, nevermind how we'll have to deal with it."

Sciabola gave a soft grunt from the front seat, his attention turning back to the multitude of avionics in front of him, putting his mental knowledge to work and shutting down the aircraft systems even as they came to a stop on the ramp outside the hangar. Damage control teams had quickly made their way over, and as Sciabola had climbed out of his damaged aircraft, he caught sight of the damage that his own aircraft had suffered. Scraps of aileron were still present, but were likely going to have to be refabricated entirely in a machining shop. Most of the panels that had been damaged or warped would no doubt also be exchanged for whatever the machinists could get their hands on. The hydraulics on the wing were completely dry, and in some places there were even small spiderwebs of stress fractures whichc had pushed through the air superiority grey paintjob of the Phantom's wing.

Then his attention turned to the side of the aircraft altogether, back towards what he'd first discovered on his bird when he'd arrived. A lovely little jab or taunt, probably from one of his fellow aviators, though he hadn't a clue who. None of the mechanics or ground crew had seen a thing, or so they claimed, and he'd been left to sport the derogatory phrase during the mission. His eyes watching as the other members of the squadron soon made their approaches to the airfield, he shook his head and finished walking away from his aircraft. The paperwork to get everything sorted out, and his official report would have to wait until after the debriefing.

---

2nd Lieutenant Marco "Rondine" Petraglia
13 December, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria
Rondine's eyebrow quirked up, watching his longtime wingman shrug off the consolations of the ground crew. The paint-canister in-hand, Romolo had insisted he be the one to cover up the paintjob. To some, it perhaps looked like pride, but to Marco, it was understandably more a a lack of comfort in the ability of the ground crews to stay focused. It was only reasonable for the man to do the job himself, since he couldn't be guaranteed the ground crew would behave themselves. Nevermind there being the barbeque going on in the gunship hangar down the way, and while everyone had been invited, Sciabola perhaps had been one of the few to outright turn down the invitation.

"Tutto bene Capitano?"

Romolo had always been the type to beat to the rhythm of his own drum, but he had been slightly out of sorts since they'd taken to the air again. The man was a phenomenal pilot, less apt of a leader but there had been complications every step of the way. His own apprehension in getting stuck into the fighting had taken him almost two months to completely shake and it had confused Rondine, until he remembered.


"Your wife, your sons, they're in Gracemeria?"

"San Loma."

Beninati continued to walk, the sounds of other footsteps joining them managed to distract Rondine for a moment as his eyes appraised the newcomers. Paffuto and Tasso. Those two had been arm-in-arm since the 'band' had gotten back together as Oseans would say. Thick as thieves and all that other nonsense, the two were dressed similarly casually, one sporting jeans and the other a surprisingly well-fitted pair of slacks that left Petraglia raising an eyebrow. He'd never seen Tasso dress up like that, the man was ruthless and had earned his name for being capable of badgering anyone into anything. Persistence personified, that was Tasso, but he'd never imagined he'd see him dressed so- Petraglia's gaze carried past him and realized quickly a woman had also been lagging behind with a toddling daughter.

"Maria? Tasso, you old man! You managed to trick some poor woman into having your children, didn't you!"

Laughing, the other two men caught up in time, Tasso having lagged behind for a moment to pick up his daughter and give her a quick kiss on the cheek before nodding. Pride and happiness beamed from his face and a rushed glance towards the Captain showed that even he too had slowed and turned to watch the spectacle. There'd been times when they'd never thought Teodoro could keep a woman for the sheer reason that he was consistently demanding and could become quite overbearing. But here, there was a slight gentleness and tenderness to the man neither had seen before. Romolo's eyes leapt from the man to his wife, to Paffuto on the end grinning lopsidedly.

"Well, I'd have been half-pressed to blame the world for falling apart and these truly being the end times we're warned of- except Tedesco managed to retain his own bachelorhood. So, there is, perhaps, some justice in the world."

The abuse hurled at the other man was quickly laughed off with a wave of his hands and vigorous shaking of his head in the negative as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

"Hardly sir! I've gotten caught twice myself- but turns out they were only interested in catch-and-release and turned me out within a year- so now I'm stuck looking for dates from the canteen in the off-hours."

The trio of friends that had become Rondine, Paffuto, and Tasso, continued to laugh and talk amongst each other. Maria too, had even taken to taking part as the small child in Tasso's arms was quickly passed to her. Raising an arm, Tasso pointed in the direction of the gunship hangar towards his wife as he started to move at a slow jog back towards where the parking lot to the hangar had been.

"It's over there Maria! Just follow Paolo and Marco. I'll grab the food and meet you there!"

Nodding as she waved with her free hand, Maria looked towards Rondine and Paffuto, smiling. Paffuto, the most boyishly-shaped of the airmen, had taken to hurriedly asking questions about which food Maria had made and brought. There was a brief pause as she thought for a moment, and then proceeded to inform the two that Tasso had managed to cook most of it himself. They'd been expecting to host some sort of dinner later this week, but when they'd heard of the barbeque, they'd found it an appropriate time to make the food. Maria's own contributions had been in managing the cooking of everything, but it had come down to mostly watching a time and making occasional checks on the food they'd secured.

It'd become such a lively meeting among the friends, Rondine's own mind had wandered from the leader of their little family. Until he looked back towards where the Phantom of Eagle One had been moved to a little while before. Sure enough, the Captain had quickly made his way there when the others had become distracted, and he'd already set to work preparing the spray set. The younger pilot sighed and waved everyone else in the direction of the hangar. The Captain was one to be left to his own devices when he got settled into a task, but that didn't mean they had to do so either. Slowly, the group made their way towards the gunship hangar as Tasso quickly returned with a pair of bags, one in each hand and supporting bowls full of Arancini and Gnocchi. As the group entered the hangar, they quickly took to conversing with various members of the mercenary and national group hanging around, enjoying the company and beginning to try the various different dishes present.

As the party wore on though, Rondine's eyes managed to look back towards Eagle 1, and found the Captain, predictably, gone. Likely having finished up with his own task and moved onto others. The younger pilot frowned, but turned away and walked back to the barbeque, happy to be enjoying food and company among friends and pilots alike.

[Beiarusia]

Second Lieutenant Marceline “Mooncalf” Faucheux
Afternoon // December 13, 2015 // Compagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria


Marceline was unaccustomed to joining in on such high-spirited get-togethers, having spent the better part of the previous decade avoiding the camaraderie of those she had served alongside with, however temporary, lest she come to regret their inevitable passing, so was awkward in her approach and simply gravitated to the first familiar face that she recognized. In this instance it was Miriam. The Belkan was seated with somebody associated with the lead gunship of Sicario and appeared to be having a pleasant enough conversation, but upon seeing Marceline she quickly addressed her flight-mate.

"You know it's alright to take that stuff off now, right?" was Miriam's greeting. Almost instinctively Marceline had looked down to her flight-suit, having become so habituated to it that she'd forgotten just how out-of-place it seemed. The Belkan, nonetheless, made space for Marceline on the bench. "Unless it's because you have vampiric qualities, we aren't getting scrambled soon."

"Something like that," Marceline flatly answered as she accepted the offered seat.

"Or maybe it might be a good idea, Colonel Choleric might have some more suicide missions in his magic deck of cards," Miriam finished.

Needless to say, Colonel Cain was not the most well liked of the brass at Compagna (although he had some competition), at least amongst those in Assassin. Marceline, who made a point to remain impartial, also held no reverence for the man.

Conscious now of her perceived strangeness, Marceline said, “The sun disagrees with me.” A pause before adding to her explanation. “Silverstone Disease. My body is weak to sunlight; can’t process the radiation like normal people, so I keep myself covered. Even on cloudy days. Sunburn is best case scenario, otherwise I get very ill.” That was the layman’s explanation to her condition which was more-or-less accurate. Specifically her body was unable to defend itself from a specific band of radiation found in natural sunlight, which meant it would accumulate from repeated exposure and ultimately result in terminal illness. Long-term exposure was lethal; short-term exposure was uncomfortable, resulting in sunburn that was likely exacerbated by her sun avoidance.

Marceline took stock of her environment. It was a cloudy day, mid-afternoon, and she was seated in the shadows of the hangar well away from the gaping entrance. There were no extraneous windows to allow in natural sunlight, so her chance of exposure was minimal if she remained inside and away from the doorways. There was a side door nearby but it was shut currently and most people tended to gravitate towards the front entrance regardless.

Taking a moment’s consideration, Marceline reached up to remove her helmet, lifting it up and off her head and resting it on her lap. Her skin was very pale, freckled somewhat, and in sharp contrast to unkempt charcoal-black hair that framed eyes as blue as sapphires. Surprisingly she was quite youthful despite her stoic demeanor, tomboyish with an overall somberness to her appearance. Marceline absentmindedly ran her gloved fingers through her hair to add some fluff to where it had been matted down by the helmet.

“Is it tradition to barbeque in the wintertime?” she asked Miriam and, to a degree, Meg. As far as Marceline was concerned, barbecues were strictly a summertime activity, at least back home. The bonfire outside at least made sense given the bitter chill in the air.

[Kyraina]

1st Lt Zach "Knight" Steele
Afternoon // December 13, 2015 // Compagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

Zach glared at Dan, & then shrugged. He took the bottle of scotch, & poured some into a cup. He swirled the cup around, took a sniff, a sip, smacked his Lips and smiled.

"I've been Bloody Good you wanking Ice Cube, Or Should I call you Captain North Point, since you like to becomes a ice cube then pop up several years later?"

The Older man took another sip of the scotch, a big smile on his face.

"You Know What? I blame You, and your parents for me making Brig Gen."

He took another sip, decided he gone far enough with the Leg pulling

"Dan, My good man. What have you been doing the past bloody 20 plus years?"

---

SrA Megan "Doc" Whaley

Mean while Meg listened to both Miriam & Marceline. While She hadn't heard of Sliverstone Disease during her time as a Paramedic, which was after she left the OADF, she felt sorry for the young woman. She couldn't imagine having to wear a hat, long sleeves, and pants all the time. Not being able to swim or even hike in the summer would be hard on her, but Meg couldn't imagine growing up with something like that.

She smiled and turned back to Miriam.

"It's not a good idea, but mixing any alcohol with any medicine is never a good idea, at the same time if that stuff they give you doesn't help with the pain, the stuff in my medic bag will. After all My paramedic cert gets me a few things you can't get at the store."

She kept the smile on her face and faced Marceline.

"We are working on shutting the main hanger doors. Some FNG got the doors stuck while we was on mission, and decided to poor hot water on the track to try to clear it up. Well it froze the door in place. Our guys will get it fix before things get to cold in here. As far as the BBQ goes, well with Cody its always tradition to have a big BBQ party after a very successful mission. It was Something we started in the Circum Pacific War. He will fire up the grill no matter the weather, unless its a blizzard, ridiculously strong winds, or its a really bad thunder storm."

About that time a loud groan and pop was heard as the Hanger Doors were freed from the Ice. You could hear the mix Osean/Emmerian Maintainers cheering, as they had slide the doors shut.

"We got the doors closed. The Heat is going to stay inside, and that Should also keep all the sunlight out. If you want we can put a Divider up near the side door to block sunlight coming in through there when someone enters."

---

1st Lt Tyler "Razorback" Bradford

Tyler and Holly were still talking to Ciara & Doug when people started to arrive with food, so the duo had decided to Organize it. Dana then asked a Question.

Holly: 'Why Yes Ma'am, There is always room for another. You're Dana, right? We haven't met, I'm Holly, I'm one of the gunners for the Stinger."

Tyler: "Good Job out there flying a fighter in that mess. It was a bastard in that Stinger, I couldn't imagine what it was like in a fighter."

---

Capt Spyro "Drifter" Beretta

Spyro & Maria had dropped off the food and drank they had brought when Paolo, Teodoro, Teodoro's family, and Marco passed by, but there wasn't a sign of Romolo.

Spyro walked up to Marco

Spyro: "Marco, Glad you could make it. Good flying and shooting out there today. Have you seen Romolo? If so do you know if the bastard is coming?"

Maria walked up to Paolo & Teodoro, and smiled a smile that never reached her eyes, which was giving the two the stare, The stare that got her the name of Gorgon, because if looks could kill, the Duo would now be turned to stone.

"Hello you two, It's been along time. I see one of you two idiotas have a family now, care to Introduce me?"

[Herador]

2nd Lt's James "Bones" Gorman & Neisha "Dirty" Deeds
Assassin 5
Vitoze, Emmeria
December 13th, 2015

Before the four pilots and dog took their first step into the cookout hangar, Neisha turned to the group and struck a pose to her three compatriots.

"Neesh," James said with a tired look in his eye, "I promise you will be the most well-dressed person in that hangar and everyone is going to be very impressed, can we please go in now?" Bernard nodded along, apparently eager to just get on with it, and Dan looked like his usual amount of done with the whole situation though James could swear he saw a hint of a smile at his WSO's antics during their walk over.

With a flourish, Neisha threw open the door and put on her best strut. "Ladies and gentlemen, Assassin has arrived!"

"Neesh." Bernard tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "Calf, Vigil, and Rattler are already here."

Neisha held her pose for a minute, a vague look of annoyance passing over her face, James knew she wanted to be the first one here. Ever since they were young, she had always wanted to be the center of attention and he was certain that Neisha had missed her calling as an actress. Before she could say anything more Miri waved her over to where she and Marcy were sitting and chatting with some of the crew from Sicario. "Ciao gentlemen," she really was giving it her all, "I think some girls-night shenanigans are in order."

As she left with a renewed strut, James, Dan, and Bernie looked at each other blankly for a moment as each attempted to find something to say after that display.

“Go make friends, I’m off to see an old one.” Dan said bluntly, walking off leaving Bernie and James with Chief, who immediately bolted off straight for Marcy.

"Wanna go get hammered?" James asked, holding up the cases. Bernard only shrugged in response as Rectan electro-swing started to bump from a speaker Neisha had hooked her phone up to. The pair made their way over to a table near Mina who Bernie waved over.

"Voron!" He called over the low thump of the music, "Need a drink?" He held up a can of whatever swill James had managed to dig up on short notice.

[American Pere Housh]

2nd Lt's James "Bones" Gorman & Neisha "Dirty" Deeds
Assassin 5
Vitoze, Emmeria
December 13th, 2015

Before the four pilots and dog took their first step into the cookout hangar, Neisha turned to the group and struck a pose to her three compatriots.

"Neesh," James said with a tired look in his eye, "I promise you will be the most well-dressed person in that hangar and everyone is going to be very impressed, can we please go in now?" Bernard nodded along, apparently eager to just get on with it, and Dan looked like his usual amount of done with the whole situation though James could swear he saw a hint of a smile at his WSO's antics during their walk over.

With a flourish, Neisha threw open the door and put on her best strut. "Ladies and gentlemen, Assassin has arrived!"

"Neesh." Bernard tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "Calf, Vigil, and Rattler are already here."

Neisha held her pose for a minute, a vague look of annoyance passing over her face, James knew she wanted to be the first one here. Ever since they were young, she had always wanted to be the center of attention and he was certain that Neisha had missed her calling as an actress. Before she could say anything more Miri waved her over to where she and Marcy were sitting and chatting with some of the crew from Sicario. "Ciao gentlemen," she really was giving it her all, "I think some girls-night shenanigans are in order."

As she left with a renewed strut, James, Dan, and Bernie looked at each other blankly for a moment as each attempted to find something to say after that display.

“Go make friends, I’m off to see an old one.” Dan said bluntly, walking off leaving Bernie and James with Chief, who immediately bolted off straight for Marcy.

"Wanna go get hammered?" James asked, holding up the cases. Bernard only shrugged in response as Rectan electro-swing started to bump from a speaker Neisha had hooked her phone up to. The pair made their way over to a table near Mina who Bernie waved over.

"Voron!" He called over the low thump of the music, "Need a drink?" He held up a can of whatever swill James had managed to dig up on short notice.

2nd Lieutenant Amira "Grim Reaper" Cortez/ 2nd Lieutenant Malcolm "Anvil" Smith
Vitoze, Emmeria
December 13th, 2015

Amira was quietly talking with her friend Malcolm when when the door to the hanger suddenly swung open and 4 people and a dog entered. The only woman of the group strutted inside loudly announcing their arrival. Malcolm leaned over and whispers to Amira, "Narcissist much."

Amira chuckled lightly before deciding to walk over to where James with Malcolm following after her. Amira is wearing black jeans, black combat boots and a black hoodie with the Emmerian Air Force logo on the back and Emmerian Air Force Academy stenciled on the front. Malcolm is wearing blue jeans, a red long sleeve shirt and his leather bomber jacket that used to belong to his great grandfather.

The two approached the two men and introduced themselves, "Hello there, I'm 2nd lieutenant Amira "Grim Reaper" Cortez but everyone calls me Amira or Reaper. This is my WPO 2nd Lieutenant Malcolm "Anvil" Smith. We are new around base and we were wondering if you guys could give us a guided tour of the base later since we only arrived here like 2 hours ago." Amira looked at the expectedly awaiting their answer.

[Kassaran]

2nd Lieutenant Paolo 'Paffuto' Tedesco

Smiling towards Maria as she approached, Tedesco took the lead, acting as an Aegis for Tasso whom had taken to smiling awkwardly in the confrontation. It'd been a couple years since they'd seen the female pilot, and her stare was just as icy as they remembered. Perhaps it was only because they had been alongside her during her initial training and when she had first joined, but when her attention turned towards Tasso's family, the badger's smile turned to a grin. Shifting his daughter from one hip to the other, he gave the small girl a nod towards Maria.

"This is one of my old friends from work. Can you say 'hi' Emilia?"

Watching as Salvetti tried to coax their daughter to speak, his wife spoke up," Ciao, wish it could have been under better circumstances. Mi chiamo Maria, e tu??"

Interest piqued the eyes of Tedesco as he immediately caught the irony in the situation, much to the unfortunate and oblivious Salvetti whom had continued to try and coax his daughter into speaking again. It'd be only moments before disaster, or at least the infamous stare struck again and he intended to milk the moment for all it was worth when the dust began to settle. A little ways away, Marco had been engaged in conversation by Spyro, the man having apparently been transferred in off of cargo duty shortly after the war had started. He seemed to be competent enough, but there were whispers about him being a special case. Marco, and Romolo, had yet to investigate, not that it mattered to either.

"Ciao anche a te Spyro, Romolo is going to be busy for a while, paperwork and all. He's never been big on going to functions like these, but with the war going on, he's been burying his head deeper and deeper into his work to distract himself. If I know him well enough, he's neck deep in MTP-reports and maintenance work order packages from across the flight. Nevermind there's some big shakedown coming in from the admin side of the squadron. Any idea what that's all ab-"

As he was speaking, the members of Assassin arrived, and he suddenly recognized near them, a pair of individuals which he'd seen personnel files come through for only earlier that day. He grimaced, noting the female pilot, her all-black attire and the academy paraphernalia she was clad in. The groan-slash-sigh that escaped his lips as he turned away and wiped a hand over his weary face spelled his lack of amusement for the situation at hand as he nodded his head in the direction of the pilot and her WPO.

"-out... aye, its the new kid. She looks like she just got done modelling for some new academy recruiting commercial. Goes by 'Grim Reaper' for her callsign, no idea who let that one happen, but it'll be a miracle if it doesn't get shacked by the end of the next sortie."

[Anowa]

Capt. Victoria "Abel" Cain
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

While the ground was covered in snow at Campagne, it wasn't snowing, it was above freezing actually, but not by much, maybe 3 or 4 degrees out. Celsius, not the absurd clusterfuck the Oseans and North Pointers used. That being said, even with being accustomed to the cold of living in Emmeria her whole life, in Gracemeria where it snowed 8 months out of the year, she felt like a ghost had molested her spine.

And not without reason. 20 minutes ago, she was handed the silver pins and iron ons denoting that she was a Captain now. Not only that, she was one of the flight leads, not just Griffin's either. It had been joined with Hitman to make a whole new unit. In which she also had a patch for... or rather a small bag of patches, for the new squadron. In her left hand, the plastic bag filled with iron ons, a case of 24 margaritas in a can. In her right, an almost 200 dollar bottle of Gin, and two smaller wooden boxes. She was still wearing her flight suit, though the upper half was tied around her waist, and a plain grey T-Shirt was covering her upper half.

Walking in to the hangar, she was silent, as her eyes picked out Voron and Spyro.

In the Emmerian Air Force, there was a tradition that majors would get a bottle of Gin, typically an expensive brand, even more typically, Lombarti's Genever a citrusy, almost sour flavoured Gin. It was the very same brand that Victoria was carrying in her right hand. It was a brand anyone who was in the Emmerian Air Force would recognize.

Walking over to the table, Victoria set the 24 pack down, and subsequently the bag of patches. Denoting a snow drift covered, and iced over lake, with a mountain in the distance, with stars winking above it. The ribbon below read 1st Special Activities Fighter Squadron, and above, Black Ice.

Victoria would place the wooden box reading Voron's name in front of the woman with a quiet, "Congrats."

Her eyes locked on Spyro, and she quietly approached the man, lifting up both the bottle of gin, and the wooden box in one hand to the man, a small cough to get his attention, "Major."

[Rupudska]

2nd Lt. Sonja Cosic "Mudfish"
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

Sonja had never been to a barbecue before.

Sure, she'd heard of them - some Osean term for a grill party, or food cooked at a grill party, usually by smoking it. The Cayenners, North Pointers, and Sotoans all just used it to refer to grilling, but that wasn't what was going on here. It was a full on barbecue.

She had brought a few things, admittedly - pljeskavica and kaymak, along with some buns to put them on. Back home, naturally, she would have used pita bread, but it wasn't that easy to find it good here in Emmeria. Certainly not with a war on, but Nordennavik had plenty of sheep, and Yuktobania had plenty of cattle.

Besides, she tended to like it on buns. Especially potato buns. They toasted better.

And yet, despite bringing them, she had not gotten any herself. She had a tendency to pig out at gatherings like this, so she tried to pace herself, instead sampling the spicy-and-sweet pork dishes provided by the Oseans. Something called "pulled pork" in a sandwich, along with a bit of brisket and mashed potatoes.

Far from healthy, but that wasn't the point of a barbecue, was it?

Thus, she sat, mostly by herself, in the hangar gorging herself. She told herself she'd work off the calories with extra exercise later on, and from sweating bullets listening to what fresh insanity the brass had planned for her next.

[Vacif]

2nd Lieutenant Ciara "Tricky" Sharpe
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

Ciara shifted her attention from Holly and Tyler to Dana, "I'm just glad we mostly got out of there unscathed and without some kind of caveat. Honestly the amount of stuff we've dealt with is absurd. Have the Stovies really got this much money to throw at us but not their economy? I get it if it was already there but with this much war time material dedicated towards the last few missions, you gotta wonder how much they've got left in the tank." While Ciara made conversation, Doug took this moment to excuse himself and grab some food. The Man dropped off the Arancini and began making his way outside towards the grill, rack of lamb in hand.

2nd Lieutenant Bernard "Witness" Leavvit
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

Bernard suppressed his laughter well as the WSO froze in place for a moment, realizing her error. But she wasn't completely wrong now that the entire team was at the hangar. This however did not mean he didn't find the situation comedic, allowing a small grin to form on his face. To her credit, Bones recovered pretty quickly and resumed her stride to meet up with Miriam and Marceline. Dan also took his leave, deciding to meet up with an old friend. Old being the operative word. Dan was double their age, the man he was meeting was even older.

And then there were two. "Wanna go get hammered?" James asked. Bernard shrugged. There was still quite a few hours left in the day, but he figured they earned it. It'd been quite the war. As they walked towards the table, the hangar was quickly filled with electro-swing, honestly could be worse. At the table, Bernard began making himself a drink. Calling upon his ancient bar tending skills, he began fixing himself, James and Voron a drink, even if they didn't want one. Though it would appear he'd need to make two more as a duo looking like they'd just walked out of the Emmerian Air Force academy made themselves known. The lady introduced themselves, somewhat rigidly to him at least. With name, rank and nickname.

"Uh, sure, if we can still make heads or tails of ourselves after we're done. So you're being attached to our unit? What's the story behind 'Grim Reaper' and 'Anvil'?" Bernard asked the new pilots. When suddenly Abel came out of nowhere and presented Voron with a box of sorts and a bottle before abruptly leaving.

"Weird, what's that Voron? And does Abel look okay to anyone else?"

[Kyraina]

Capt Major Spyro "Drifter" Beretta

Spyro looked at Abel wide eyed and open jawwed for a second. The Expensive Bottle of Gin and the box in front of him surprising the hell out of him. He had heard of a promotion to Major coming down the line, but he was expecting it to be him. He was expecting it to be Dan, but not himself. Then he thought about it and realized he was the only one in the unit that had the time in service, the time in grade, and the time in command to be made a Major. He crushed silently under his breath at fortune, or well lack of it. He took the bottle of Gin and the box, still not quite believing it. He then realized that Jason wasn't there to do the promotion, but weather it was due to planning or it was meant as a insult, well who knew, and frankly Spyro didn't care, he'd find out at a later time and date.

"Thanks Abel. Did you get your promotion yet? Also Congrats, this means your Lion Actual /1 Now."

Spyro had after all, as squadron commander, filled out the paper work to expedite it. He was hoping she did other wise they'd have another 1st LT as a flight lead, and while not a Butter bar, a Lt was still a LT, which meant people wouldn't really listen to her. He had heard the rumors of a squadron reorganization coming, and he had a good idea of what was in the bag, considering what was now in his hands.

"Get started on passing out whatever is in that bag, we got a patch party and Promotion Party to throw. Also is there any other promotions I need to know of?"

[Tayner]

Captain Samuel 'Merlin' Daniel
December 13th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

"Dan, My good man. What have you been doing the past bloody 20 plus years?"

"Same thing as before. Just in Dorsuia, Sotoa, Belka, among other places." Dan said, before looking around. "So, you went from a F-15 to a gunship, eh?" Dan said, looking at their gunship as he took a sip from his drink. Music was starting to be played, some of that new Rectan stuff, and people were already gathering around for food. Dan spotted Abel walk in with her own contribution to the party, but noticed that she went around and handed some wooden boxes to some of the flight leads, and a bottle of expensive looking gin to hand to Spyro. Dan wasn’t new to the military, and expensive gifts generally meant promotion.

[Sapim]

2nd Lt. Helena "Bono" Martiz & 2nd Lt. David "Joker" MacGregor

1600, December 13th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

Bono: "Ahahahahahahaha"

For a long time that Helena and David did not have fun and talk to each other, the time separated was soon undone with their reunion.

Bono: "Ahahahahaha, it's been a while since I laughed at your jokes David."

The joy that David brought to Helena was in fact unique they never thought the chemistry they have would actually be unique and quite precious in dark times. While they were having fun, a man and a woman were arriving talking in Estovakian, it was the former colonel of the Estovakian Stroika air force and his daughter.

Helena saw this as an opportunity to get to know a little more about Stroika and his daughter and about Estovakia and its culture as Helena has a fascination with the history and culture of other countries.

Bono: "*Coughs...1st Lt.Stroika, it's a pleasure to finally meet you*"

Helena hoped that Stroika understood her accent, as it pulled more Sapinish than Estovakian one fucking shame.

Bono: "*Eh...me and my partner would like to invite you and your daughter for a round of drinks and talk about your country and culture... And also about how the Estovakian Air Force acts, you need to know how enemies behave and as you are a former officer your help would be welcome of course only if you accept.*".

A clear nervousness hit Helena but hopefully awaited a positive response.

Caption: * = Translated from Estovakian

[Hastur]

First Lieutenant Miriam “Rattler” Lochte
Vitoze, Emmeria // 13th December, 2015

---

Miriam recognised the woman’s stiff body language as an air of aloofness radiated through the conversation. Marceline was out of her element, uncomfortable with the social gathering she was now lingering at, forced to associate by circumstances. She took her seat on the bench, sliding in next to Miriam as she elaborated on her condition. Silverstone disease. An ailment in which she couldn’t deal with the radiation from the sun.

“Oh.” Miriam blurted, feeling a slight tinge of guilt over her semi accurate joke she’d made earlier. Everything about her suddenly made a lot more sense, even the call sign, which rather meanly characterised her as a grotesque creation affected by the ominous influences of the moon. Truth be told, it surprised Miriam she could fly with such a crippling condition. But in this conflict, the demand for pilots that could fight overshadowed everything else, which was ultimately a good thing. She was one of the better pilots in the squadron.

Miriam kept silent, cradling her drink as Megan began seeking to make her comfortable while over explaining the rationale for permitting a celebratory winter barbecue. “Plenty of people have barbecues all year round too.” Miriam added, leaning in with a subtle grin, seizing a better look at Marceline’s features with her helmet now removed. The next thing she caught was an absence of alcohol. “Where is your drink? Why don't you have one? Come on.” Miriam stated, delivering a brief pat on her back as she got up from the bench, gritting her teeth for a moment as she wondered over to the table. As she marched over, her eyes caught Cain giving out small wooden boxes to both Voron and Spyro, with a rather expensive bottle of gin perched under her arm. Miriam knew what that meant. Things were clearly about to change again.

Grabbing herself and Marceline a fresh bottle of beer from the cooler, the words grim reaper caught her attention, her head turning to the conversation lead by witness as he quizzed the new guys. Miriam, now perplexed, wandered over to the crowd, weaselling her way into the conversation. “Sorry? Your call sign is what?” She asked, an amused grin on her face as she looked at the two. Callsigns typically were something embarrassing. It was why she was called Rattler after all. Witness continued, asking Voron about her little brown box. “I think somebody just made captain.” She added, raising her bottle briefly to Voron before taking a long sip.

[Anowa]

"Thanks Abel. Did you get your promotion yet? Also Congrats, this means your Lion Actual /1 Now."

Spyro had after all, as squadron commander, filled out the paper work to expedite it. He was hoping she did other wise they'd have another 1st LT as a flight lead, and while not a Butter bar, a Lt was still a LT, which meant people wouldn't really listen to her. He had heard the rumors of a squadron reorganization coming, and he had a good idea of what was in the bag, considering what was now in his hands.

"Get started on passing out whatever is in that bag, we got a patch party and Promotion Party to throw. Also is there any other promotions I need to know of?"

Abel sighed, "Yup, this retard is in charge of people now."

She hiked her thumb over to Voron, "Voron's a Captain now too. Dan's your squadron XO, despite Pop's recommendation that he be in your place." a pause, "We're also the new 1st Special Activities, Griffin and Hitman." she shrugged, "Pop would've come to talk about it himself but he's in a hospital bed after blowing his back out because of a 13 G turn like a complete fucking clown. That and he probably thought that Colonel Choleric showing up would've tanked the mood."

"Wiseass is over in our hanger." she rocked her jaw, despite her anger towards him, there was a level of understanding in him doing what he did. Or at least the goal behind it, not the act itself. He was gonna lose that dogfight no matter what he did, and there wasn't any guarantee anyone would've been able to come to his aid. The Mercs were occupied with covering the ground troops, and the few air superiority fighters were generally preoccupied with the other aircraft that had shown up. "I get that he fucked up, but he didn't look like he needed anymore dressing down. I don't think he's gonna be grounded for it though."

[American Pere Housh]

2nd Lieutenant Ciara "Tricky" Sharpe
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

Ciara shifted her attention from Holly and Tyler to Dana, "I'm just glad we mostly got out of there unscathed and without some kind of caveat. Honestly the amount of stuff we've dealt with is absurd. Have the Stovies really got this much money to throw at us but not their economy? I get it if it was already there but with this much war time material dedicated towards the last few missions, you gotta wonder how much they've got left in the tank." While Ciara made conversation, Doug took this moment to excuse himself and grab some food. The Man dropped off the Arancini and began making his way outside towards the grill, rack of lamb in hand.

2nd Lieutenant Bernard "Witness" Leavvit
01504, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

Bernard suppressed his laughter well as the WSO froze in place for a moment, realizing her error. But she wasn't completely wrong now that the entire team was at the hangar. This however did not mean he didn't find the situation comedic, allowing a small grin to form on his face. To her credit, Bones recovered pretty quickly and resumed her stride to meet up with Miriam and Marceline. Dan also took his leave, deciding to meet up with an old friend. Old being the operative word. Dan was double their age, the man he was meeting was even older.

And then there were two. "Wanna go get hammered?" James asked. Bernard shrugged. There was still quite a few hours left in the day, but he figured they earned it. It'd been quite the war. As they walked towards the table, the hangar was quickly filled with electro-swing, honestly could be worse. At the table, Bernard began making himself a drink. Calling upon his ancient bar tending skills, he began fixing himself, James and Voron a drink, even if they didn't want one. Though it would appear he'd need to make two more as a duo looking like they'd just walked out of the Emmerian Air Force academy made themselves known. The lady introduced themselves, somewhat rigidly to him at least. With name, rank and nickname.

"Uh, sure, if we can still make heads or tails of ourselves after we're done. So you're being attached to our unit? What's the story behind 'Grim Reaper' and 'Anvil'?" Bernard asked the new pilots. When suddenly Abel came out of nowhere and presented Voron with a box of sorts and a bottle before abruptly leaving.

"Weird, what's that Voron? And does Abel look okay to anyone else?"

Amira looked at woman who had just walked in and shrugged her shoulders before turning back to the 2 men in front of her, "Well when this whole war started, I was apart of an attack wing tasked with SEAD duties and the elimination of all enemy ground forces. That Tornado GR4 you see across the runway in one of the hangers is how I gained the nickname 'Grim Reaper' due to its excellent radar system and its ability to carry almost any kind of missile or bomb in the Emmerian arsenal even nuclear weapons. To my enemies, I am the Grim Reaper when they see me. Anvil here still won't tell me how he got the nickname 'Anvil' though I believe it is either an Academy thing or he got it before the Academy. As to my attire, I know you guys think I have walked out of an EAFA commercial but I am only wearing this because it is cold outside." Amira pulled her hoodie off revealing a tight fitting red t-shirt that reveals to everyone her curves that would normally belong on a professional swimmer.

[Ubaria]

December 13th
1500 Hours - Local Time
Dana Fischer
Vitoze, Emmeria

'Why Yes Ma'am, There is always room for another. You're Dana, right? We haven't met, I'm Holly, I'm one of the gunners for the Stinger."

Dana gave a brief nod of appreciation and gave Holly's hand a quick shake. As she passed to take a seat, she collected a non-descript brown bottle from the nearby crate as she passed.

"Yeah." She replied, prying off the bottle's cap on the edge of the nearby bench. A airy white foam trickled out and dribbled onto the floor below, though quickly she raised the bottle to her lips and took a swig of the Osean brew, the bitter taste welled in her mouth, though a strange fruity tinge could be detected. Blueberry perhaps? She pondered for a moment, letting the taste soak into her tounge.

"Good Job out there flying a fighter in that mess. It was a bastard in that Stinger, I couldn't imagine what it was like in a fighter."

Dana gave a faint grimace, recalling the conditions. "Ice everywhere. I've never seen anything like it. My transponder and radio transceiver froze over too. I couldn't hear anyone until i broke the clouds."

"I'm just glad we mostly got out of there unscathed and without some kind of caveat. Honestly the amount of stuff we've dealt with is absurd. Have the Stovies really got this much money to throw at us but not their
economy? I get it if it was already there but with this much war time material dedicated towards the last few missions, you gotta wonder how much they've got left in the tank."

"If looking tough means hundreds of thousands will starve, they'll do it. Ulysses exposed the Estovakian system's flaws but helped build an even more horrifying monster. We can only hope the people take action into their own hands."

[Kyraina]

2nd LT Joseph "Sharps" Bridges

Joseph had been standing near the side door when James, Neisha, Bernard, & Dan walked in with Neisha making a fool of herself with announcing that Assassin Flight had arrived despite Miriam, Marcy, and Ben already there.

He Saw that Neisha had walked over to Join Megan, Miriam, and Marcy, so he started to walk over to James and Bernard. James called out to Voron for a drink, when a couple of FNGs walked over to James and Brenard and introduced themselves as Amira Cortez and Malcolm Smith, with respective callsigns of Reaper/Grim Reaper and Anvil. ~I wonder how the Hell she got away with the callsign of Grim Reaper? I mean who the Hell let that Happen?~ Joseph thought to himself. He approached the group of 4 people and heard Bernard ask the very question Joseph was going to ask. Then he heard the story of how she got her callsign and shook his head.

"Howdy Y'all. Nice to Meet you Amira & Malcom. I'm 2nd Lt. Joseph Bridges, callsign Sharps. I'm the FCO for Sicario 1. Amiria, I'm sorry but we are gonna change your call sign does anyone have any good ideas.

---

1st Lt Maria "Gorgon" Sossa

Maria's changed from the famous Icy star to a warm look as she watched Tasso tried to coax his daughter to speak and smile, but was experiencing difficulties, but then Tasso's Wife, also called Maria spoked up. Maria smiled at Tasso's wife.

"Veramente? Anceio mi chiamo Maria. Non e Interessante? It seems Teodoro has a type for women with the name Maria. I'm sure I can tell you some interesting stories about him."

She then turned her attention back to Emilia.

"Ciao, Mi chiamo Maria, proprio come il nome di tu a madre. Non devo spaventare a meno che non siano tuo padre e il suo amico, co ti chiami?"

She smiled warmly at the little girl, because while she may be a hard woman, she always had a soft spot for children.

---

2nd Lt Zach "Knight" Steele

"With a Few planes in between. Flew mainly in Tornados and Typhoons after I got back to North Point and was dragged back into service about the time of the Skully Island incident. Hell, the past two missions have the first time I've flown in combat missions since the Usean Continental War. It was nice not having a rail gun firing us every mission so far, and not having to fly nap of the earth to avoid said rail gun round."

He took a sip of his scotch, savoring the flavor, and smiled a sad smile

"Flying in the Gunship is for sure different then a fighter. Ranger's dad called me up and asked me to tag along with His Grandson, Jax's nephew, Tyler. Also Never fly a old AC-119K into a blizzard. We basically didn't have any heat in the plane at all, though Tyler put in a req order for a AC-130E but sadly it's the model without the 105mm. Any way what's your plans after the F-5 and why the hell are you even in a F-5?"

---

Maj. Spyro Drifter Beretta

"Hey, you will do fine. Don't be to hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. Hell, I made a couple the past two missions, but gotten off lucky as it hadn't cost anyone their lives. At least one of the Emmerian Flight Leads is now someone who knows what they are doing in a fighter, and not a pilot transferred from a different aviation field, or one that was dragged out of a early retirement."

He listened to her about Voron, and Dan. "Hell I'd rather Dan be CO, he got more experience, but you know whats left of Command wants a Emmerian in Command, and I'm probably the only one with Enough Time in Service and Time in Grade to promote, considering that Romolo been out of service for the past two years, and the early retirement for no reason." He cocked his head to the side as she explained the new Squadron.

"Looks Like we having a patch over party, along with a promotion, Good thing they had already started grilling. That or we would have given a new callsign after blowing his back out and him showing up in a wheel chair or some sort of walker or cane. I'll Make the announcement of the Promotions, the unifying of the Squadrons into one. Then After the bring the last of the food in, I'll make Wiseass a plate and take it to him. I'll talk to him. We need every pilot we can get, especially if they have the kind of creativity he showed to improvise, adapt, and overcome the situation."

Brief anger rose in Drifter's eyes, at Wiseass's mistake, but understood why he made it, so he forced himself to calm down.

He turned back to Marco.

"Marco, take that plastic bag, start handing the patches out to everyone. When you see Romolo tomorrow, tell him I need to speak with him."

With that he walked off.

---

1st Lt Tyler "Razorback" Bradford

Tyler and Holly listened to what Tricky and Dana had to say.
Tha
Tyler: "Like Dana said, the Current Stovie Government will die on this course they set themselves on before they admit they are wrong. We saw the Yukes do the same thing at the beginning of the Circum-Pacific War. Hell we did the same thing during that war. Though the Aftermath of the Grey Men being revealed wasn't pleasent."

Tyler saw Spyro as Spyro walked over with a bottle of expensive gin and a wooden box.

Holly: "Wonder what that is all about?"

---

All my characters

Spyro walked over to the food table, and placed the gin down. He brought his figures to his lips and let out a loud piercing whistle, that echo'd through the Hanger.

Spyro: "Welcome Everyone, I appreciate The Crew of Sciario 1 to throw this BBQ, and for cooking most the food. I'd like to say thank you to all of the Foreign Nationals here that have accepted contracts with the Royal Emmerian Air Force, and they help y'all have provided so far, and will continue to provide. Without y'all we wouldn't have made it this far." Spyro looked around at everyone in the hanger and smiled

"Now it has come to my attention we have three promotions this evening, this coming from Command. 1st Lt Takhmina "Voron" Abduloeva has been promoted to Captain, 1st Lt Victoria "Abel" Cain has also been promoted to Captain, and Finally Myself, Capt Spyro "Drifter" Beretta have been promoted to Major."

He went quite in case this was any congrats going to the two Captains. He looked around again at the hanger, waited for any congratulations to quiet down.

"Also from Command, Griffin Squadron and Hitman Squadron are being combined to form 1st Special Activities Fighter Squadron "Black Ice". I'll be leading the squadron, with Captain Samuel "Merlin" Daniels as my XO, or Second In Command, but he will stay in charge of Assassin Flight. 1st Lt Bradford, Capt Abduloeva and Capt. Beninati will stay in Command of Sciario, Enforcer, and Eagle. Meanwhile Capt. Cain will take over command of Lion flight. Also I'd like to Welcome 2nd Lt Amira "Grim Reaper" Cortez, and Her WSO Malcolm "Anvil" Smith to the Squadron. Though we will have to see if we can't get a better callsign for you Lt Cortez. Also Lt Petraglia will be coming around handing out the new Squadron Patches. So let's turn this BBQ into a patch over, a Promotion Party, and a Naming Secession all in one. Also anyone that comes up with a New call sign for Lt Cortez, well I'll cover their meal after next mission"

About that time The Stingers ground crew started bringing food from outside where Hud had been grilling to into the hanger. Along with more pulled pork, there was also Brats, and Emmerian Sausages, along with local grill fruits and vegetables.

[Vacif]

2nd Lieutenant Ciara "Tricky" Sharp
01508, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

Tricky wasn't exactly happy with the response she got. It was probably 110% true, she just wished there was a better answer out there. The fact that they were able to fight like this even after a heavy civil war was amazing. Gotta focus that angry energy somewhere she supposed. She sighed and shrugged. "I still don't get how invading us was supposed to help their economy." Ciara snagged one of the canned margaritas that Abel had gifted the party and cracked it open for herself. The answer to her question was it wouldn't. It was just to satisfy their narrative and internal image.

Suddenly, an ear piercing whistle broke through the conversation. Difter (not Major) had announced a number of things including thanking the mercenaries, the promotions and a naming party. Ciara offered a polite cheer and applause for the promoted. They got some new members, names and some good food. Ciara gladly took the new patch and twirled it between her fingers as she analyzed its details. It felt well deserved with the work being done by the squadron. With the stuff they'd done, it was worth the name. Though she couldn't help but feel like they were about to get worse jobs.

---

2nd Lieutenant Bernard "Witness" Leavit
01510, December 13th 2015 // Campagne Airport, Emmeria

---

After hearing the story behind Amira's nickname, he had to back up Sharps on the call. "Agreed, by that one, our entire flight should have that nickname. It's just not gonna fly." Indeed, the efforts of what was now the first Special Activities Squadron had killed off an entire air wing by themselves, on top of at least an entire armoured division and then some. Perhaps if Amira were still part of a normal squadron she could potentially keep it, but in a unit where each pilot was a "grim reaper" in their own right, that kind of nickname simply would not hold.

Now with Cortez being a new person to the new unit, they didn't really have her actions to judge her on. Her past couldn't be used because they didn't know it. She hadn't done anything yet except introduce herself and her WSO. Edge? A bit too on the nose. She had hair, so she was a ginger. Ginge? Gingy? Ginger root? Ginger was too plain. Root. The source of all things. Such as this nickname. "Root. It'll do until you either do something cool or really stupid. Anyone want to fight me on it, you're welcome to make a new name."

[Beiarusia]

Second Lieutenant Marceline “Mooncalf” Faucheux
Afternoon // December 13, 2015 // Compagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria


Megan was immediate in offering whatever she could to placate Marceline. While the closure of the main hangar door was appreciated, both for limiting the amount of sunlight that filtered inside, as well as keeping the warmth from escaping, Marceline couldn't help but to feel bothersome, and was quick to dismiss the assistance. "No need. It's not that much of an issue," she downplayed. The hangar was dim enough and one opened doorway was unlikely to kill her. She was still mostly covered by her flight-suit sans helmet, so any accidental exposure would be minimal. As for the wintertime barbecue, Megan and Miriam gave a satisfactory answer despite the poor attempt to start a conversation.

Quickly it was pointed out by Miriam that Marceline was lacking a drink. Before the Erusean could protest there was a pat on the back and already the Belkan was making way towards where the refreshments were kept. Marceline gave a slightly apologetic look to Megan, and then quickly followed after Miriam. As soon as she reached her a cold beer was thrust into her hands.

"Oh. Uh, thanks." Marceline stared at the red-and-white can for a moment longer before popping the top. It wasn't her first beer ever but the taste was still something she hadn't become accustomed to. Marceline thanked Miriam who was already being drawn into another conversation, and as Marceline debated on if she should follow suit a familiar canine bounded up to her, almost knocking her to the ground as Chief threw his entire weight against her. Spilling some of the beer, she made an effort to simultaneously pet the dog and keep him from climbing into her arms. "Glad to see you too," she said.

As someone gave some announcement about promotions (she was only half listening) Marceline tried her best to mingle, but mostly stood by on the periphery of the crowd, taking in the exhilaration of the atmosphere as a bystander. She was thankful that Miriam was friendly too her, and didn't mind the company, so although hesitant to form any close bond she'd at least consider it for the time being.

[Anowa]

MISSION 04: OPERATION SUPLEX
BRIEF

Capt. Victoria "Abel" Cain
0603 December 21st, 2015 // Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

The briefing room was almost barren without the rest of the squadron's pilots in it, right now, it was just Harbourmaster, and Black Ice. Tombstone stood at the briefing table regularly checking his watch. The man looked irritated... No, outright pissed off. He was notably grinding his teeth given how his jaw was moving, and his foot tapping sounded angry, even if it was hidden behind the almost sci fi table he was standing behind.

The briefing room door opened and in walked another officer, one of a higher grade than anyone seated... at least in this military.

Harbourmaster, snapped up to a salute, as did Abel and Wiseass. Tombstone did as well, but his was, strained.

The brigadier general returned the salute as he took his place at the briefing table, as Tombstone took a step back, the voice was heavily accented in Italian, "Right, so let's get this started."

The older man pressed a few buttons as Tombstone glared daggers in to the back of his head.

"In 28 hours time, you will all embark in what is quite possibly the longest combat flight known to history." the map popped up on the table revealing most of Emmeria... It didn't zoom in. Instead, a flight path was revealed, from Campagna, North past Khesed, around Nordenavvik, and North of Felinsala.

Harbourmaster's Lead, one Major Koltan voiced his opinion in a low tone, "Jesus Christ."

"Unfortunately, there is nothing Holy about the mission you will embark upon. Your target, is the Estovakian First Strike Group." picture showed up on screen, showing ships in port, some from the air, and names associated. An Ulyanovsk, two Kirovs and Slavas a piece, six Udaloys, and six Admiral Grigorovichs, 4 replenishment tankers of varying design, the least uniform part of the Group, they consisted of a surplus Erusean tanker, an Osean surplus, and two Yuke surplus ships. "Your primary target in this operation is the Kirov class cruisers Cancer and Pisces, not the Ulyanovsk, Kraken. If possible, you are to sink the Ulyanovsk if the opportunity presents itself. But your utmost priority are the Kirovs. Resistance cells we are in contact with in Falinsala have informed us that the Kirovs recently were rearmed with Nimbus missiles, they do not have the range restrictions the Heavy Command Fleet does, as such, in a few days time they will be in range of the whole of Khesed. If they enter range, the air war is over. Period. Taking off, landing, and simple combat patrols will be an extreme hazard due to airburst missile strike. And without air support, our ground forces will collapse."

"You will be joined in the mission by Avalanche, who will meet you at the half way point of your journey, launching off the REN Archangel, our sole remaining operational Nimitz. You will undergo five refuellings, the last two with Avalanche. Both en route and returning. Should any of you be too damaged to return beyond a reasonable doubt, you are to make an emergency landing on the Archangel, carrier capable or not, or ditch in to the ocean. Yellow Jacket will be on standby for immediate recovery."

The images changed to an actual map of the AO, "The projected intercept is located near the Sicora Archipelago, a small volcanic island chain with no population. This archipelago will force them through a small subsurface channel to avoid their heavier tonnage ships from running aground. This is where you will strike, they will likely be forced into a linear convoy or tight formation, giving you an opportunity to either stall them or block the channel to them. From there is will be comparatively easy pickings."

The man glanced at his watch and stood up straight, making for the door, "I'm afraid I'm short on time, Colonel Cain can answer any questions."

With that, the man walked out, with Tombstone glaring at him the whole time, "Tells you all to go on a suicide mission and doesn't have the balls to stick around."

A pause as he started plugging things in to the table, "Right, so." a pause as the arrangements of ship 'token's appeared on the AO map. "In all likelihood, the strike group is gonna be in standard formation either before or after the channel, like so. Never in the history of man has an intercept gone that correctly, except with the fucking moon landings. And none of you have an astronaut badge." a pause as he brought up specs on the each ship class, "For those of you that can load ECM or countermeasures, load up on as much as you humanly can. That fleet alone has nearly a hundred different forms of anti air, over half of it is long range SAMs. Some of them are likely Nimbus warheads. I don't know if they can be dumb fired, so if you see any type of drone, get the fuck away from it or shoot it down, they're used for terminal guidance. If they can be dumb fired, AWACS can put projections of the blast on your radar either way." a pause, "Speaking of AWACS, you're being assigned a mercenary one, Andromeda. They've already been briefed, they're just going over what they need to."

"Do note that even if you aren't carrier capable, a landing on the Nimitz can be done. They have a net based recovery system, and a lot of those nets and room for you all."

"With that out of the way, questions."

Someone from Harbourmaster raised a hand, "Any subs we should be wary of?"

"No, only subs that Estovakia has are currently with the South Sea fleet, we can confirm that."

Abel raised her hand, "Is there any contingency if we fail?"

Tombstone was quiet for a moment, "Not without a lot of pilots dying. No. But you won't fail, none of you are dog shit pilots. Just don't be heroes for fuck sake. Sink the Kirovs, and fuck off. We can deal with the rest at a later date on better ground. If you managed to do more than that and live I'll eat my own goddamn boots."

"Anyone else?"

[Empire of Donner land]

Second Lieutenant Benjamin "Vigil" Antall
0603 // December 21st, 2015 // Compagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

Ben yawned quietly as the briefing went on about the specifics of the Nimbus Warheads possibly present in the fleet, he hadn't gotten much sleep since the barbeque and had no explanation for why, on and off every night. He'd been in his room trying to catch up most of the time he could manage it since then, at least according to him, though Mooncalf probably couldn't find head nor tails of him if she wanted to. This briefing, as he sat next to her, was probably the only time in a while she'd been able to find him if at all.

The mission looked tough, but Ben himself didn't wager to call it a suicide mission, especially with all Assassin's been through. He was confident, but not cocky, a naval group with a carrier wasn't anything to think that you could take on easily, but as Cain stoically put it, they were "good pilots". They were better than good, they were Aces, and the Fleet ought to be shaking in their hulls. As the briefing continued, Ben perked up slightly at the mention of the new Mercenary AWACS, and then the questions opened up.

"Anyone Else?"

Ben raised his hand, "This Andromeda guy, what's he like? You know we already don't play well with each other let alone with strangers. Hell, for their sake, I hope they were briefed on us." He asked, dropping his hand to his lap.

[Okayanos]

Second Lieutenant Arnold “Turtleman” Gaumont & Second Lieutenant Annabelle “Wild Bill” Nicollier
0603 // December 21st, 2015 // Compagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

Arnie wrung his hands together as the Brigadier General laid out the upcoming mission. He was still worn from the flight over, and hearing about the capabilities of the Nimbus missiles did little to put his mind at ease. Weapons that could turn the tide of the entire war around if they weren’t taken out of commission- but no pressure, right? The Brigadier General certainly made it sound like just another run of the mill mission, even though everything about their target pointed to it being the exact opposite. Arnie grimaced as the high-ranking man left. Like most of the pilots present (especially the other mercenary ones), he wasn't at all fond of COs with that sort of attitude. Tombstone at least seemed to have a more realistic outlook on things. Not that the AO was an overly pleasant man, but then again, who was in a war like this?

"Anyone else?" Tombstone asked, after two pilots put their questions forth.

Ben raised his hand, "This Andromeda guy, what's he like? You know we already don't play well with each other let alone with strangers. Hell, for their sake, I hope they were briefed on us." He asked, dropping his hand to his lap.

Arnie found exactly zero comfort in the knowledge that the squad he'd be sortieing out with had teamwork issues. Evidently, Annabelle thought the same, as she leaned over toward him. "Hey, we got the special squad." She said. Arnie shot his co-pilot a glare, then raised his hand in the same way Ben had.

"The Estovakians have a carrier in their fleet, how much enemy air cover can we expect?" If the fighter cover would be bickering amongst themselves, he could at least hope that the Stovies wouldn't have too many birds in the air.

[Hastur]

MISSION 04: OPERATION SUPLEX
BRIEF
First Lieutenant Miriam “Rattler” Lochte
Vitoze, Emmeria // 21st December, 2015

---

Once more unto the breach.

Another briefing, a suicide mission for them to undertake.

Miriams glowered at the screen, a muddled expression capturing her face as the brigadier general went over the operation. A several hour long combat flight crossing an absurd amount of land to engage an Estovakian carrier fleet armed with a cruise missile designed to clear the air of planes. Her eyes flitted as she processed the information.

two battle cruisers, two cruisers, six destroyers, six frigates and the cherry on top, a aircraft carrier.

Getting close enough to engage with what they had would be hazardous, the ships operating a vast amount of countermeasures against aerial attackers. Getting to the priority of the battle cruisers would take a careful plan, one certainly a lot more in-depth than the briefing provided, the carrier being a stick in the mud that would have to be dealt with first. They could sling missiles until the cows came home, but if they didn’t eliminate the threat, and that carrier, nobody would make it home, and the war would be over in the next few days.

Miriam let loose a tight sneer as the General alluded to it being easy pickings. Nothing was going to be easy about this. Relative or not. A hasty glance at his watch exasperated her further. The man didn’t even have the time to run over a mission that the war itself rode on with the pilots entrusted with it with pulling it off. Her mouth slanted downward as he strolled out, the pilot longer able to contain her disdain for him. Colonel choleric didn’t exactly help ease matters with his own statements.

“We’re going to have to get creative here.” Miriam leaned forward, whispering to the other members of her flight. “No way we’re going to be combat effective long enough to knock out two battle cruisers. Radars will detect us miles out and the airspace will rife with fighters when we get close enough.”

Eventually, the call for questions came.

Miriam’s hand briefly ascended. Eyes locking onto Tombstone, a look of utter dejection and resignment harbored within her hazel eyes. “Sir, even with all the ECM we can throw up, the radar is going to identify us before we get close and they’ll be fixed for a fight. We cannot take out those battle cruisers with saturation attacks, it’s just too unpredictable, too much is at stake.” She lingered for a second, weighing her next words, trying not to tank the atmosphere of the room any further. “And even if we do pull it off, the aircraft carrier is going to have fighters up chasing us down like hounds. There is no way in this scenario that we take on this fleet and we make it back home, atleast without the carrier going with it. Not with the planes our squadron has.”

She hesitated anew, tongue poking her gums as she considered a solution. Assassin had aquired new planes, fresh batches of Sukhoi ready to pierce the veil, all of which had good anti ship capability, but if they wanted to be sure, they'd have to get close. “Our flight has the most anti ship missile capacility, I recommend once we get just outside radar range, we sea skim towards the target. The islands will help us mask our appoarch so we can get in as tight as possible, and try to deliver killing blows at close range.” She leaned forward, brushing her hands through her hair, a slight dissatisfaction floating in the tone of her words. She knew the close range AA systems would wreak havoc on them, but they just had to survive long enough to elminate the threat with cruise missiles “We have enough to hit the carrier and the two battle cruisers, it’s treacherous but it’s better than putting it to lady luck.”

[Anowa]

Ben raised his hand, "This Andromeda guy, what's he like? You know we already don't play well with each other let alone with strangers. Hell, for their sake, I hope they were briefed on us." He asked, dropping his hand to his lap.[/blocktext]

The man shrugged, "Either she'll fit like a glove or you're all gonna hate her." a pause, "Professionally casual is the best way I can put it."

"The Estovakians have a carrier in their fleet, how much enemy air cover can we expect?"

"It's unlikely they'll have more than a small combat patrol up by the time you appear." he gestured at the almos 4000 km flight path, "If they can see this coming then they're fucking magicians I'll tell you that. You'll have somewhere between four to five minutes between being detected and the rest of the air wing getting airborne. That's best case scenario for them. That doesn't account for the Hokum-Bs and Freestyles they may launch off of other ships."

-snip-

The man nodded, "It'll have to work." a pause, "I know S-8 rockets have chaff warheads, I'm fairly certain we have some in stock from captured Stovie gear. if you think they'll help, take 'em. Not like anyone else is gonna be able to take them." the crossed his arms, "I don't know what the weather is gonna be like, Meteors think it'll be windy and snowing, so if it is that'll slow the launch of craft, and the snow may just give you enough masking."

"Avalanche, you move in behind Assassin and double tap, even if they're already sinking. We don't want to leave it to chance in case they have armoured belts. Harbourmaster, you're bigger targets, hang back if you can and if Assassin's run can't be done or they have to divert, you saturate the carrier. If it does succeed ram what you can in to the remaining ships. If we can't sink anything else we can at least kick 'em in the fucking shins."

Avalanche lead gave a small salute from his seat, and Harbourmaster gave a resolute "Aye Aye."

"If anyone can bring HARMs, I'd load up on a few to try and fuck with the various FCS the ships are running." the man locked eyes with Abel, "F-15 can run bunker busters with missiles. Last I checked CIWS have a harder time tracking iron bombs, so bring a few. Drop 'em on what you can. You'll have enough fuel with FAST packs."

The woman nodded.

"It's the start of a plan, anyone have anything else to add?"