Ace Combat: Ashes of War (IC/Closed)

by **Kyraina** » Wed Jun 23, 2021 9:26 pm

Capt Sypro "Drifter" Beretta, Eagle 1
0552 November 24th, 2015 // North Vitoze, Emmeria

Drifter: <<Eagle 1 to all signs, Thanks for the help. Griffin let's keep hitting these Fritters, Leave the MiGs to the Mercs and other squadrons. Eagle 2, Form up on me.>>

Drifter quickly looked around and found himself in a calm spot in the middle of the furball before he spotted Two SU-17 making a break for a Allied ground unit and He put the Crusader into a dive to intercept.

He quickly came up in their Six 0'clock and got a lock on the rear most one and fired off a AIM-9.

Drifter: <<Eagle 1, Fox 2. Eagle 1 Fox 2.>>

The two SU-17s thinking the missile was from the SAM site broke off attack and then realized to late it was from behind as one of the SU-17s detonated.

Drifter kept behind the unlucky SU-17, who just couldn't shake him, but Drifter couldn't get a lock either, so he switched from Missiles to guns, lined up a shot and shot off two burst.

Drifter: <<Eagle 1, Guns, Guns, Guns.>>

The SU-17 started smoking and the enemy pilot ejected.

Drifter was getting ready to call in his third kill when his RWR sounded off and he broke into evasive actions. He dumped flare and chaff and broke hard to starboard and down. He spotted a element of MiGs following him.

He quickly went to rolling scissors with with the Two MiGs and pulled back on his throttle and bled energy off fast as the MiGs over shot him. Drifter got a lock and let lose with a AIM-9, and one of two MiGs disappeared in a fireball with a chute floating away

Drifter: <<Eagle 1, Fox 2, Fox 2>, and and I have splashed a MiG>>

While Drifter pushed the thorttle back forward the Remaining MiG-21 got the jump on Drifter and the RWR sounded off. Drifter did what he could to try to evade the MiG but it stuck to his Tail.

Drifter: <<Eagle 1 here I got a MiG on my ass and It's sticking back there like a flea on a dog.>>

390x 20mm APHE rounds
2x AIM-9

Kills
3x SU-17M3 Fritter-H
1x MiG-21

by **Anowa** » Wed Jun 23, 2021 10:22 pm

1st Lt. Victoria "Abel" Cain
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

It was all of maybe ten seconds before everyone once again heard the voice of the grating Stovie broadcaster.

Estovakian Broadcaster: <<Our merciful government in their benevolence has taken it upon themselves to restore order to your former capital, Gracemeria, and yet you seem intent on wasting away your final days playing futile war games.>>

The grating voice was prompty cut off by a older one, grizzled and somewhat gravelly, but recognizable to more than a couple of Griffin and Hitman's members.

Tombstone: <<Ignore this blowhard.>>

Sky Kid: <<Wasn't expecting you to be this late to the party Colonel.>>

Tombstone: <<Still plenty of party to go around. Sky Kid.>>

AWACS Ghost Eye: <<He's right, multiple contacts from Bearing 344 and 090. 6 times Blackjacks, 16 times Escorts and... what seem to be cruise missiles. They're approaching fast! Ground speed is approaching Mach 2, they're in the final bombing run. Both are at Angels 16, 130 kilometers out and approaching rapidly. Cruise missiles are descending on a beeline for the air port.>>

Abel: <<Don't tell me it's->>

AWACS Ghost Eye: <<Not Nimbus, we're out of range. They're conventional. Get over there and shoot them down!>>

Tombstone: <<Avalanche, Windhover, and Sky Kid Squadrons form on me, we'll tackle the north. Griffin, and Hitman, go east and get those fuckers to the deck or in the ground. Go!>>

Avalanche, Sky Kid, and Windhover squadrons quickly formed up with the amalgam F-15 that had rapidly blown past Griffin and Hitman. Heading northwest.

As that happened, Abel's eyes were drawn almost directly east, to what appeared to be a quartet of bright yellow glint. Almost as if the planes were gold plated.

Edinorog: << [ESTVK: Guild Squadron, Master-Arms Off.] >>

by **Dayganistan** » Wed Jun 23, 2021 11:26 pm

1st Lt. Takhmina "Voron" Abduloeva
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

While she had really done very little to command Enforcer flight, Voron couldn't help but be proud that her first mission as a flight lead was turning out to be a successful one. Enforcer flight had been able to bag several bandits, including one of the Bear bombers. None of the aircraft of Enforcer flight had been shot down or damaged so she could certainly count that among positives as well. And to bag a bandit of her own after so many years out of a fighter's cockpit? She could count that as a success and a confidence booster to build on. Sure, this war probably was futile but for now, she had to count the small victories just as her squadron would celebrate if just a single Osean plane had been shot down on a sortie or if everyone made it back from striking Osean ground positions. She would have to take some time to get to know her flight members on the ground and hopefully build some team cohesion despite differing nationalities and ideologies. However, she knew from past experience it wasn't a given that any of them would survive to the next mission so at least for now trying to build too much camaraderie would inevitably end in pain.

Voron: <<Enforcer 1 to all Enforcer callsigns you guys are doing great...>>

She was cut off by the Esotvakian broadcaster continuing his speech. Like hell he was going to get anyone to surrender.

Voron: <<Pizdets, is this guy going to shut up? Anyway Enforcer flight keep up the good work. The bandits are thinning in numbers.>>

She may have almost been too complacent that the mission was almost over before the voice of the Emmerian AWACS came over the general frequency.

AWACS Ghost Eye: <<He's right, multiple contacts from Bearing 344 and 090. 6 times Blackjacks, 16 times Escorts and... what seem to be cruise missiles. They're approaching fast! Ground speed is approaching Mach 2, they're in the final bombing run. Both are at Angels 16, 130 kilometers out and approaching rapidly. Cruise missiles are descending on a beeline for the air port.>>

The majority of the Emmerian squadrons were ordered to take on targets to the north by a pilot who had the voice of a grizzled veteran, while Griffin and Hitman were ordered to take on the threats to the east. Yuktobanian manufactured Tu-160 bombers, an aircraft she had certainly seen before but all she knew was that they're fast for their size. It was the escorts she was worried about however, she had no idea what aircraft they would be. They were probably not something she was comfortable dealing with in an older fighter more focused on ground attack. As she turned her aircraft to the east to put herself on course to engage the new threats she spotted a flash of yellow in the sky. Was that the enemy aircraft? She couldn't make out the type but something about such a bright, reflective paint scheme made her feel quite uneasy about these guys.

Voron: <<Enforcer 2 and Enforcer 5, you're free to engage escort fighters. All other Enforcer callsigns, move to intercept cruise missiles or hang back from the fight. It's your call I'm not going to force you into a fight you don't feel comfortable with.>>

She pulled her plane into a climb and increased throttle. She wasn't quite prepared to go with full afterburners however, she didn't want to fly on ahead of anyone else and get blasted out of the sky by who knows what the Estovakians had sent after them. She'd have to rely on visual confirmation to find the cruise missiles as well, her aircraft only had a navigation radar and she didn't want to miss them by flying too fast.

by **Kassaran** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 2:23 am

Capt. Romolo 'Sciabola' Beninati
24 November, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

The minutes since he'd broken into the engagement had disappeared in a blur of motion, movement, energy, and death. Columns of smoke rose up around and within the city of Vitoze, nothing like the scenes of devastation he'd seen when the invasion had first begun, but enough to evoke a sense of dread and fear in his mind. He'd served well during his tenure, and nothing like this had ever crossed his mind as a possibility. Not here, not in Emmeria, where the peace had held for decades. Not even when the Estovakians had begun to slay one another, or the Belkans had dropped nukes on their own cities, did he think the world would end. He had lamented the losses of life, of love, of liberty so many had faced in the heat of the wars over the years, but he'd taken for granted Emmeria's seemingly endless and tranquil peace.

Estovakian Broadcaster: <<Our merciful government in their benevolence has taken it upon themselves to restore order to your former capital, Gracemeria, and yet you seem intent on wasting away your final days playing futile war games.>>

The transmission cut out as the sound of another voice, older and recognizable to the ears of the Captain, began to speak. The Colonel, Tombstone, had arrived to the party. Watching as the fighter squadrons passed over the lower altitude furball slowly beginning to dissipate, Beninati shook his head and refocused on the objective. In his ear, Paffuto was informing him of the two bombers and their escorts pushing in from the East. Grimacing, as he pulled the stick to the left, Sciabola lifted higher into the air, cuing his mic.

Sciabola: <<Griffin callsigns, standby for tasking. Lion flight, bump to Angels five and press. If I'm right, those missiles are subsonic. Trash them by any means necessary.>>

As he spoke, he could see the range tick lower and lower on his HUD as his Phantom pushed for the merge. In the back, his Lieutenant and ever-faithful WSO, read off the numbers and kept him informed of what was going on behind him. The inter-squadron channel buzzed to life as one of Mercenari flight leads, Voron, if he remembered correctly, began to call out commands to their own.

Voron: <<Enforcer 2 and Enforcer 5, you're free to engage escort fighters. All other Enforcer callsigns, move to intercept cruise missiles or hang back from the fight. It's your call I'm not going to force you into a fight you don't feel comfortable with.>>

Nodding, Beninati did the calculations in his head, his fuel was still good. He hadn't bothered with drop tanks, in the first place, guessing correctly the distances at which they'd be engaging. He could see the shape of a friendly Fitter ahead of himself and quickly thumbed his communications again, this type over the intersquadron channel.

Sciabola: <<Hitman One, Griffin One. Griffin Priority is Hot Contacts Medium and Low. Sort targets, and Press. You have our support. Eagle flight, bump to Angels 10 and cover friendlies.>>

He waited to see the response. He wasn't in any position to be asking as much as he was, but the situation required the squadrons in the air to work together quickly, and while it'd been working so far with limited communications, it needed to improve before someone got hurt, or worse. His eyes watched the radar where he could see the callsigns for Able and Red still on the deck. They'd been in the weeds for a moment and while it looked like Red was still flying, there was a note of concern that had been in Abel's voice when they'd asked for their sitrep.

by **Offer Erapia** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 7:48 am

Adam white, Enforcer 5

Adam had a moment to collect himself. He took deep breaths in order to calm his pounding heard. His stomach and chest ached yet he flew on. He lazily turned his Mirage back into the fray. Once his vision had returned and his hearing restored he steadily pulled back the stick whilst pushing the throttle forward, his plane quickly gaining speed. In the midst of his shallow ascent he heard a crackle over the comms and soon after a familiar voice entered his headset.

<<Enforcer 1 to all Enforcer callsigns you guys are doing great...>>

Deep down Adam appreciated the compliment but he couldnt let his emotion get in the way. He continued to climb eventually leveling out at around ten thousand feet. The giant mosh pit of fighters was starting to die down with the enemy planes either destroyed or retreating. He quickly searched for his flight lead. She wasnt hard to find considering she was the only fitter left in the AO. He quickly pulled up on her four o'clock and stuck close in a tight formation.

AWACS Ghost Eye: <<He's right, multiple contacts from Bearing 344 and 090. 6 times Blackjacks, 16 times Escorts and... what seem to be cruise missiles. They're approaching fast! Ground speed is approaching Mach 2, they're in the final bombing run. Both are at Angels 16, 130 kilometers out and approaching rapidly. Cruise missiles are descending on a beeline for the air port.>>

Just when Adam thought they were done a new, larger enemy force had come to play. He groaned to himself checking his fuel and ammo in preparation of what could potentially be his last battle. As he checked through the list his eye was caught by a large blip on his radar. He looked up towards the heavens and there, in the distance was a massive formation of dots some were already diving on them. Adam gazed back to his flight lead before opening up his comms.

<<Jester: Enforcer 5 to Flight lead be advised im down to guns, over>>

As he did this he followed the fitter, which had pulled up to meet the incoming enemy. He soon started scanning for potential targets, but as he did he couldn't help but notice the strange tints on some of the planes hed soon discover were F16s. At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him but after a few more moments the enemy plane rolled and dived. Showing to Adam and all who were watching that it indeed had a golden color to it.

<<Enforcer 2 and Enforcer 5, you're free to engage escort fighters. All other Enforcer callsigns, move to intercept cruise missiles or hang back from the fight. It's your call I'm not going to force you into a fight you don't feel comfortable with.>>

<<Jester: Wilco flight lead will fight to the last shell, over

Adam quickly responded pulling slightly away from formation. The enemy and his flight were mere moments from the merge. Pushing his stick to the left Adam began to perform a lead turn. In doing such a manueveur he hoped he could beat his opponent in the turn fight. He preferred if he could get a quick snap shot but it was a pitiful hope. What he believed were to happen was a risky and dangerous head on pass. With only seconds to spare Adam cranked his mirage hard just as the escorts shrieked by.

by **Hastur** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 8:31 am

MISSION 01A: OPERATION UMBRELLA
1st LT Miriam 'Rattler' Lochte
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

The fishbed in front was proving to be harder to paint than Miriam had predicted, its deceptive actions making it difficult. The jets locked in a winding chase as they both pursued each of their targets. Miriam gritting her teeth as she held for the sharp beeps to shift into a solid tone. That concentration fading as she recognized the MiG’s that had snapped off peeling in behind her. Her short sightedness in trying to bail her flight member out turning back to bite her in the ass. As the pursuing MiG’s pulled into position, another bitter beep rang off. Distinct in pitch from the other that was screaming off. The bandits were painting her aircraft, waiting for that lock. At this range, if that happened, she would go down in a ball of fire.

Rattler: <<<I’ve got two bandits on my six! Going evasive!>>>

With her own life at stake now, Rattler sped up quickly. Activating afterburners on the old bird to give her that little extra push. Excitement reaching its peak as she pulled the stick hard and fast. Slicing the plane left into a series of short high G turns. Burning energy as she attempted to shake the MiG in pursuit long enough to screw up their lock. Sharply exhaling through grated teeth as the effects of the turn hit her. Her head grew weary, vision dimming, legs stiffening up as she staved off the assault of pressure, letting off a stressed grunt as she tore out of the fighter’s flight path. Evening out the craft anew for a brief second as she continued to lose it.

She glanced out of the canopy, desperately scanning behind her for the pursuers. Only one was left, along with the Merlin’s F-5E who was in thankfully in pursuit of him. The lock sound was on her again, a sinister noise repeatedly driving itself into her eardrum as the last MiG continued to chase. The enemy steadfast in seeking to knock her out with a missile. With some of the energy already scorched, she would run out of options soon if she didn’t get him off her tail rapidly. She got ready to perform more evasive actions, and if that failed, she’d have to go for the spiral. She really did not want to do that.

Merlin: << Rattler, bank right! >>

The voice directed, and without thinking, Rattler banked. Forcing the tired bird into a turn as the MiG finally received its lock. The rapid beep turning into an exceedingly long tone. “Shit!” Miriam spat. Her eyes swelled in dismay as she waited for the other shoe to drop, the anticipation for the one tone she really did not want to come over her headset. She stuck to the manoeuvre as demanded, however. Believing that the command was the wise choice.

Merlin: << Guns guns guns! >>

The consoles howling cry was abruptly disturbed by the breakneck spatter of cannon fire. She snaked her head back, catching the trailing aircraft rupture into a short ball of fire. The last plane twisting to the earth as the pilot bailed out, leaving a stream of black soot as it did.

Merlin: << Scratch two fishbeds, Rattler, keep covering Frog, I’m breaking off to intercept the bandits chasing Assassin Three. >>

Miriam nervously chuckled, freed, the roar of excitement from almost perishing petering out into the back of her mind. Riled up as she angled back onto her original course of helping Frog. Immediately seeking to pick up on the MiG’s, using the afterburners once again as the craft lurched forward, spending fuel.

Rattler: << Wilko! That got a little too dramatic! Thanks for the support Merlin! >>

She closed distance, back again, the Mirage 3 gaining on the attacking fighters who had been drained to all but two. More than a fair fight at this point. The fighter eased in, attempting to paint them.

F.R.O.G.: <<Eyes up, Rattler, breaking!>>

Her eyes snapped to the allied MiG as it activated its air breaks. Giving up its speed rapidly as the first in the waltz line zipped forward right into the Frogs guns. Exploding into pieces as the green tracers tore the fuselage to shreds. Now, one remained. Rattler keeping chase, following the pair through.

Rattler: <<Good splash! He is toast! >>

They went right through the smoke trail of the now ended threat, continuing their dangerous dance. Miriam watching carefully as the lead plane activated their after burners. The two planes manoeuvring for a head on engagement. A dangerous move. Not wanting to hit by friendly fire, she quickly broke off to the left, making a quick turn as she continued to observe. Frog got their missile off first as the Stovie elected to use his guns. The rocket slamming right into the cockpit of the pursuer as their tracers zipped past in an impressive light show. The following explosion absolutely annihilating any chance of survival for the enemy pilot as he undoubtedly exploded into flames. Leaving a disintegrating plane as it fell from the sky.

Poor bastard.

F.R.O.G.: <<Fox-two, splash another Fishbed. Thanks for the help back there Assassin-Two, five-on-one is a bit steep, even for my tastes.>>

Rattler: << Any time Assassin Five! Any Time! Let’s get back to showing these Stovies the what for! >>

Her voice was joyful as she scanned the radar for new targets, riding high of the success. She still had one AIM-9 and the cannon, enough to splash some more bandits. This had been what she’d been looking for.

AWACS Ghost Eye: <<He’s right, multiple contacts from Bearing 344 and 090. 6 times Blackjacks, 16 times Escorts and... what seem to be cruise missiles. They’re approaching fast! Ground speed is approaching Mach 2, they’re in the final bombing run. Both are at Angels 16, 130 kilometers out and approaching rapidly. Cruise missiles are descending on a beeline for the air port.>>

Her eyes squinted towards the objectives. There was an abundance of them, but it was the last assault. All they had to do was smash it in two and they would have won the day. Rattler immediately sought to draw back into formation with their flight, but something seized her consideration. A twinkle in the sky to her east amongst the other planes, mirrored the light from the burning dawn sun. Four fighters. Closing hot, looking almost regal as they came at them.

Rattler: << Got four bandits bearing 90 high in what look like golden planes! These gentlemen just have no taste! Following your lead Merlin!>>

by **Kyraina** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 9:53 am

1st Lt Tyler "Razorback" Bradford, Killer 1
November 24th, 2015// Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

The AC-119K was setting on the Runway with people and supplies crammed inside the cargo hold of the gunship.

Campagna ATC <<Killer Flight, and all Cargo call signs y'all are free for take off. We got cruise Missiles inbound, we need y'all up in the air before they get here. God Speed. Campagna ATC out.>>

Tyler Merely Nodded and pushed the Throttle forward for take off speed. The Twin Boom Gunship accelerated for she was worth down the runway and took to the Air. He looked over to his Co-Pilot, A grizziled old man that had survived the war in Seian, and made a name for himself in the Skully Island Insurrection, and the Usean Continental War by the name of Zach "Knight" Steele. He wasn't sure what to do or where to go. Tyler was already nervous because this was the first time he was on the receiving end of a Ass kicking and in jeopardy of his home base falling.

Knight: "Take Us Opposite direction of the action Kid. They just told us to get all the civilians and non-essential base personnel out of here. I'll get on the Horn to Serpent."

Knight <<All Exodus Call signs, Killer 1. We are on Bearing 270, we are to get away from here as fast as we can, remember to keep it neat and orderly. We don't need to lose any one to stupid mistakes or thinking they can out do a fighter in a transport or civilian plane. Killer 2, lets drop to the back and pull what rear guard we can. Lets let the Emmerian fly boys take front with their thrash haulers. Killer 1 Out.>>

Knight turned his head to Razorback and looked at the kid getting nervous.

"Kid, you told me you served in war."

"I did, but the war with Yuktobania and the Gray Men, well I wasn't loaded up with Civilians, nor was we about to lose our last base. Circum-Pacfic was a confusing mess when it was revealed what the hell was going on, but it wasn't never this desperate."

"You're doing find Kid. Just keep level head, and you'll be fine. I Just hope they stop those cruise missiles cause we don't have no where else to go right now"

by **Laka Strolistandiler** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 11:06 am

1st Lt. Helga "Red" von Ritterchofen

Sciabola: <<Griffin callsigns, standby for tasking. Lion flight, bump to Angels five and press. If I'm right, those missiles are subsonic. Trash them by any means necessary.>>[/quote]

”Subsonic?! SUBSONIC!!!”- after receiving this message Helga was as happy as if she would’ve been just gifted a free Felon- this was an excellent opportunity to show off the old Yuk’ jet’s strength. Immediately, she reported in with her voice full of joy:
Red: <<Sciabola, copy, Lion-3 Wilco!>>

Afterwards she engaged afterburners and started climbing,- the restored VK-1, heart of an old Fresco started beating to it’s full power, pushing her into the seat,- now THAT was the reason why she had joined the Air Force! Looking at the altimeter, she saw the altitude steadily increase,- and after a mere couple minutes of climb, leveled out at angels5- just in time for a flight of Kh-55’s to appear!

Red: <<Lion-3, engaging multiple Kh-55’s, over!>>

Now she could try to catch up to them and finish them off with guns, however, this was pretty dangerous as a blast from the exploding missile posed immense danger to the plane. Instead, the acquired a radar lock, prepped an AA-1, until she heard a distinct, pleasant tone, indicating that the missile was ready to go off the rails, and then pushed release button.

Red: Lion-3, Fox One!

The old AA-1 “Still had it in itself”- missile had went off from the rails, and slowly, really showing its age, started maneuvering towards the cruise missiles. After the booster went out, Helga looked through her sight, awaiting- will it hit or will it fail or be a dud? An answer to this question was an enormous fireball- the detonation of missile’s payload had really shown the usefulness of keeping range. Reporting the victory, she locked on to another target and positioned the agile MiG behind it the same way:

Red: <<Splash one! Damn this gun cam footage’s gonna be worth a lot! Engaging another Kh-55!>>

Acquiring a lock, she fired off a missile and saw it go off the rails, spin around a bit and then disintegrate mid-flight. So much for Yuktobanian quality… Prepping and firing off another missile, the results were equally disappointing- although it did launch and track the target, for some reason it failed to detonate, piercing through the cruise missile’s skin but somehow remaining stuck in it. Luckily, she had a final one,- and after a quick prayer for this AA-1’s reliability,- she launched it, putting all of her hope.

This missile was a bit different from the previous two- while it launched and tracked the target, it’s booster had cut off rather shortly- she could easily see it lingering just a couple of meters behind the cruise missile, and then detonate. Afterwards, for a fraction of a second she saw, that the third missile, still stuck in Kh-55, had seemingly caught fire from the explosion, before being consumed by another gigantic blast. Now that is a story she’ll surely tell her grandchildren! Looking at her fuel gauge she could immediately see the benefits of bringing in additional fuel tanks- her aircraft had still enough fuel to fly for a substantial amount of time before going bingo.

Eagerly, she reported her third kill and status:

Red: <<Lion-3, another Kh-55 splashed! I’m out of missiles, Lion-1, requesting further orders! I can try to engage the remaining enemies with cannons, although I’m worried about their blast wave…

by **The United Remnants of America** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 12:06 pm

Second Lieutenant Tobias "Frosty" McLeod

Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

11/24/2015 - 06:15

By the time Tobias had moved out of the immediate danger of combat, slowed his Thunderchief down, and made a turn to head back in, the layout of the battle had been completely changed. More enemies had shown up on radar, and the Bear he was eyeing on the way out was down. Such was life. The AWACS was doing an amazing job at keeping their information up to date. A pair of Blackjack bombers were now inbound. Tobias visualized the plane in his head, and looked at where it was in relation to him on the radar.

As Tobias came out of his turn, he began to line up his bearing, planning out an interception angle against the closest of the two Blackjacks in the formation. He glanced down and scrawled some quick notes and math on his kneeboard in an attempt to figure out if he could make it. He checked his fuel and knew his ammo load, and he knew he could just barely beat that Blackjack in a sprint. He looked back up and angled his plane slightly to the right, knowing that if he punched it, he should be able to catch the Blackjack sidelong much like how he'd killed the Bear.

Frosty took a calming breath, readjusted himself in his seat, made final adjustments to his bearing and climb, and then opened to full throttle. Frosty's neck tightened as he was forced once again back into his seat, climbing higher and gaining speed. He was halfway to the spot he expected to cross the Blackjack's line when he evened out. He was sitting about 2,500 meters below where the Blackjack was flying, and his acceleration was picking up now that he stopped climbing. Frosty watched the radar return of the Blackjack slowly approach him, and the speck in the sky through his canopy began to enlarge.

As he closed to 15 miles of the Blackjack, he nosed up just enough to bring the Blackjack directly in front of him and waited for the lock.

<<I've got a Blackjack in my sights. Fox 2, Fox 2.>>

Two Sidewinders left their hardpoints and rocketed out from underneath Frosty's Thunderchief. He ducked his nose back down and began to angle left so he would pass behind the Blackjack. He bled off some speed and looked up to watch the effects of his handiwork. The smoke trails of the Sidewinders split apart only a fraction as both missiles detonated against the Blackjack's right engines. In a similar fashion to the Bear kill, Frosty watched the Blackjack immediately begin to dip and begin a long slow spiral down, trailing smoke and debris from its right side. Frosty smiled under his mask as he flew underneath the second Blackjack, hoping that they realized they were next once he turned himself around. He only hoped his last Sidewinder would be enough, since he preferred double-tapping larger targets.

<<Splash one Blackjack. Enforcer-4 wrapping back around for another pass.>>

Second Lieutenant Wulf "Sserpent" Hetzenauer

Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

11/24/2015 - 06:15

[/b]

<<Killer Flight, and all Cargo call signs y'all are free for take off. We got cruise Missiles inbound, we need y'all up in the air before they get here. God Speed. Campagna ATC out.>>

<<All Exodus Call signs, Killer 1. We are on Bearing 270, we are to get away from here as fast as we can, remember to keep it neat and orderly. We don't need to lose any one to stupid mistakes or thinking they can out do a fighter in a transport or civilian plane. Killer 2, lets drop to the back and pull what rear guard we can. Lets let the Emmerian fly boys take front with their thrash haulers. Killer 1 Out.>

"Engine check?"

"Engines good, props spinning."

"Hey, kids, how are the guns?"

"Fully loaded, should all be ready to rock back here."

"And the passengers?"

"Well, there isn't much room for them, but they're getting on and holding on to what they can."

Wulf Hetzenauer gave a tense smile and looked back to his copilot, Jyri Rasimus IV. The two of them had been wingmen or pilots together for over twenty years. He thumbed his radio and began speaking to a man he'd known almost just as long.

<<Knight, Serpent. Killer-2 is spun up. We are ready for takeoff, only waiting for the last evacuees we can carry out of here. Will form up on you when we're in the air.>>

Wulf switched channels to the onboard system, his Belkan accent still noticeable after all these years, "Kari, tell me they are all in the back now. I do not want to be sitting here if those cruise missiles hit this base. I would rather crash land into a field than sit here and get blown up."

"Wait up," came the reply from the AC-47D's loadmaster, Kareena Webb, a fellow Belkan, a crew chief turned into a Snowcat contractor. There was a pause on the radio. "Okay, we have ten passengers crammed in here. I'd like to avoid crashing, because we look like sardines back here. Reloading the guns are going to be a pain if you get us into a firing run."

Wulf and Jyri nodded to each other as the gunship's breaks were released and they began rolling forward, "I will see what I can do. Just keep them away from the bay door. We do not have enough parachutes back there to spare."

"Thanks for the optimism."

"Of course."

Together, Wulf and Jyri directed the Spooky down the runway and into the skies. Wulf could feel the slight strain in the plane. She was flying a little fat, what with the extra passengers on board that shouldn't be there. But it was better to get them off the ground and away from danger. They circled around and began

<<Killer-1, 2 is airborne and forming up off your starboard wing and back about a thousand feet. Be advised, we are heavy ten souls, and our maneuvers will be limited. It's nice to be flying with you again, Knight.>>

Jyri looked up, "You heard their pilot is Jax's kid, right?"

Wulf nodded, "Nephew, but yes. Let's see if those skills are genetic."

"He'll be fine. Mister Steele will keep him from fucking up too badly. But the real question is, if you fuck up, who's supposed to save you? Me?" Jyri laughed.

Wulf fought an urge to roll his eyes and responded with mock hostility, "Do not tempt me, Erusean. I can still make sure we land cockpit first into the ground."

"But then you'd be so lonely without me harassing you and saving your skin."

Both pilots laughed as the Spooky formed up off the wing of the Stinger of Killer-1.

by **Tayner** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 1:25 pm

Captain Samuel 'Merlin' Daniel
Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria
November 24, 2015

Mooncalf: <<Zis is Assassin-Three, callsign Mooncalf. Priority target shot down. Bandits trailing at six o'clock. Falling back.>>

Merlin: << Assassin Three, I'm comin', stay easy. Assassin Two, let's go. >>

The F-5 and Mirage broke from the furball to intercept the two fishbeds that were engaging Mooncalf and Vigil. One of the fishbeds went high, the other went low, recognising that their target was now covered by their wingmen.

Merlin: << Rattler, go high, I'll go low. >>

It was a simple enough plan, the two pilots would spar off with the fishbeds, Dan knowing that Rattler was more than capable of handling herself, given they didn't get locked into tunnel vision before. Dan dove, exciting a split S maneuver as the MiG-21 buzzed past, who was already banking to lose Dan before he could even get behind them. Dan excited a high-g turn, falling in behind them just barely, his g-suit putting pressure on his legs as he tensed his abdomen and controlled his breathing. The g-force was rough on him, but he kept himself together as he pursued the MiG, eventually getting the lock tone, and firing a missile.

Merlin: << Fox Two! >>

The missile once again struck true, and Dan pulled up.

Merlin: << Scratch one fishbed, Rattler, how's it coming? >>

by **Dayganistan** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 2:19 pm

1st Lt. Takhmina "Voron" Abduloeva
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

As more friendly aircraft started to push towards the east Voron ignited the afterburners on her fighter. The wings swept back automatically in order to further reduce drag. She preemptively powered on the seekers of her R-60Ms, preparing to acquire lock on a target. Her targets remained the inbound cruise missiles. If her assumptions about which type of missile was fired were correct, they would be moving at subsonic speeds and be powered by a turbofan engine. She was sure her R-60s could lock up the enemy cruise missiles. If not she would have to go to guns, and without a radar gunsight calculating lead she wasn't sure she'd be able to hit such a small target with her relatively low velocity 30mm cannons.

Just off to her right she soon spotted a small, elongated white object moving through the sky towards her and descending. That had to be one of the cruise missiles. She gently banked her fighter to the right to put herself on an intercept course. While her R-60Ms were technically all aspect heat seeking missiles, they had a much shorter lock on range when trying to lock a target from the front or side. On her current trajectory she would probably have to get close to achieve a lock.

Voron: <<Enforcer 1 has visual contact with a cruise missile. Moving to intercept.>>

She continued to push towards the missile, occasionally making slight adjustments to her flight path in order to keep the missile near the center of her HUD. She was soon approaching what she estimated to be 8 kilometers, the maximum lock on range of her missiles. There was no lock tone at this range as she expected. She kept her throttle up until she reached what she estimated to be 4 kilometers, the practical lock on range under battlefield conditions. At this point there was still no lock. She reduced her throttle to slow down and keep the cruise missile in her sights for longer. She soon reached approximately two kilometers and there was still no lock. She was still far from her missile's minimum arming distance, but she knew that would come sooner than expected and she did not want to be that close to a cruise missile firing a large high explosive payload. She reduced her throttle even further and the wings on her aircraft swung out to further reduce speed. She was about to deploy airbrakes when she suddenly heard the lock tone. She pressed her weapon release button twice as two R-60Ms streaked off of her fighter at nearly Mach 3. She pulled back on the stick hard and went to full throttle, executing an Immelmann turn to rapidly change directions away from the missile.

Voron: <<Enforcer 1... Fox Two... Fox Two.>>

Her radio transmission was interrupted by heavy breathing to manage the G-load during her maneuver. Meanwhile, her missiles, up until the last couple decades the most maneuverable dogfighting missiles in the world, had almost no chance of missing such a slow moving target which would perform no evasive maneuvers at the distance she had fired her missiles at. Both R-60Ms would impact the cruise missile, detonating it and causing it to fall to the ground as a shower of shrapnel. She would soon sharply bank right again to try to visually confirm her kill and see if she needed to attempt to reengage the cruise missile. All she saw however, were the white smoke trails of her R-60Ms and a cloud of black smoke where the cruise missile once was. She considered hunting for more cruise missiles but she looked to her fuel gauge. She had neglected to bring external tanks and her internal fuel load was starting to get lower than she would like. She continued to fly back towards the south.

Voron: <<Enforcer 1, splash one cruise missile. I'm running low on fuel, I'm going to pull back south for now.>>

by **Anowa** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 4:54 pm

1st Lt. Victoria "Abel" Cain
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

As the craft from the trwo squadrons descended upon the bomber and cruise missile formation, the golden planes seemed non plussed, barely even aware of the situation. Though as Abel's wingman started gunning down cruise missiles, a manuever that Abel was barely able to keep up and manuever with due to the MiG pilots unretrained glee upon finding a target. One of the gold planes adjusted course and immediately made a beeline for the subsonic fighter, and thus, Abel as well. The ensuing fight between the 4th Gen and the 2nd Gen would be similar to Eddie Hall with a baseball bat versus a newborn puppy, Abel knew this, and frankly was growing tired of the MiG-17 putting her life in jeopardy with such childlike glee. With the ejection of something from the F-16 that most definitely wasn't a drop tank, no doubt the RWR (if it had any) in Red's cockpit would be flashing worriedly.

Punching in to max afterburn for the third time that day, Abel put her plane between the incoming AMRAAM and the MiG-17, with a cloud of chaff and flares pluming behind her craft, the AMRAAM swiftly flew headlong into it and detonated, followed very quickly by the F-16, now tailing her instead of the MiG.

Tracers flew past her canopy as she was immediately caught in final defensive manuevers. Yet no matter what she did, she kept feeling the tell tale rattled of a 20mm shell finding a bite somewhere in her craft, aven as she was pulling 8 and 9 G turns.

Abel: <<Lion...*hup*...Two...*hup*...Support...*hup*>>

Halfway across the battlefield, a Tu-160's canopy busted open as it's crew ejected. Frosty had barely banked into a climb before one of Guild squadron was on him like stink on shit.

A long burst of cannon all but unzipped a 8 meter long stretch of fuselage on the Thunderchief. It's tail became a mangled mess, only one elevator was still attached, the vertical stabilizer was ripped in half, and the sound of ball bearings in a tin can screaming from the tail end, and the rapidly declining airpseed meant that the Thud's engine was dead.

The F-16 that assaulted the aging craft at that point let bygones be bygones, and returned to the formation with speed, finding himself now at the belly position covering the bottom of the formation. The two others formed up ahead and to the side of the Blackjack.

The cruise missiles at this point had finished their dive and were on final approach at less than 100 meters off the deck. IFF targeting systems would see LPWS booting on and readying for the worst.

by **Hastur** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 6:06 pm

MISSION 01A: OPERATION UMBRELLA
1st LT Miriam 'Rattler' Lochte
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

Merlin: << Assassin Three, I'm comin', stay easy. Assassin Two, let's go. >>

Miriam, supporting the captain’s lead, moved into a rigid formation as they soared higher. Her eyes scanning the sky until they identified Assassin three’s Fitter-H as the MiG’s kept pace, observing as they both separated off. One high, one low.

A dog fight it is then.

Merlin: << Rattler, go high, I’ll go low. >>

Rattler: << Wilko! I got him! >>

Miriam operated the controls, observing the MiG’s flight pattern precisely as it ascended from its position, seeking to gain distance from the action. She hit afterburners to summon up as much momentum as feasible in the climbing battle. She knew her aircraft was marginally faster, but the MiG had already been gunning it by the time she had got there. Then, it twisted into a dive.

Merlin: << Scratch one fishbed, Rattler, how’s it coming? >>

Rattler << Working on it! >>

Miriam spats back. His climb being one last ditch attempt to eliminate its original goal. Moving her plane sharply into a dive to try and catch him out, gritting as the G Force hit her. She hounded his attack vector, the tracking beep yelping before letting off a scream. Miriam released the lock and fired.

Rattler << Assassin Three, Fox 2! >>

The rocket shot from the wing and scurried forward as the target attempted to drop out of its attack. The bird twirling sideward in a deceptive fashion as fear took over. It is dance however had not worked, the infrared missile caught its target, bursting into the central fuselage. The explosion sheering the beast into splinters, the cockpit separating from the plane as it spun towards the soil. The last thing Miriam spotted before drawing back up was the silver blossom of a parachute. A brief smile surfaced on her face as she relinked up with her flight.

Rattler << Bandit splashed. I’m winchester missiles but I’m still good to fight. >>

by **The United Remnants of America** » Thu Jun 24, 2021 9:24 pm

Second Lieutenant Tobias "Frosty" McLeod

Campagna Airport, Vitoze, Emmeria

11/24/2015 - 06:17

<<I'm hit! Enforcer-4 is hit.>>

He'd come out of nowhere. Frosty thought he'd been able to slip through quickly and grab bomber without being noticed. He hadn't expected those F-16s to notice him from his angle, but one of them had apparently noticed him and prepared to catch him as soon as he thought he'd watched the Blackjack begin going down.

He felt the impacts before he heard the cannon firing off. The entire plane shuddered with the series of rounds that had found their mark, and the effect was immediate. He didn't have time to twist around and look at what the damage was, because he suddenly found himself fighting his father's plane just to stay aloft. The aircraft was suddenly barely responding to his controls, and for a plane already known for being unwieldy, suddenly become unwieldy and unresponsive became a war. In addition to that, Frosty learned there was an alternative way to slow your aircraft other than airbrakes or bleeding velocity, and it involved losing your engine.

In the time it took Frosty to loll the limping Thunderchief back on a heading roughly straight for Campagna Airport, the sound of his engine had died completely and Frosty realized he was now gliding.

<<Mayday, Mayday. This is Enforcer-4. I have lost all engine power and most control ability. I am beginning an unpowered glide on a heading of 2-5-8 en route to Campagna. Repeat, this is Enforcer-4, Mayday Mayday. Dropping all munitions to lose weight.>>

Frosty thumbed the explosive bolts on his remaining AIM-9 Sidewinder, letting it fall free from the damaged fuselage. His next move was to open his bomb bay doors and begin dumping his unset bombs. A series of ten clicks indicated the bombs falling out of his plane, which let him become 2,500 pounds lighter. As Frosty fought to keep his aircraft on target for the airport, he hoped the lightened load would be enough to carry him home.

by **Laka Strolistandiler** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 3:06 am

1st Lt. Helga "Red" von Ritterchofen
Immediately as she had splashed a second missile, she heard the RWR blare out loudly,- someone had got behind her! Immediately upon hearing a warning, she began doing standard evasion procession “by the book”- at such speeds MiG-17 could easily sustain an 8G turn, however, she doubted that that’ll be enough to throw off the incoming missile, as she was readying up for the worse…

Just before she decided that it was all over, she saw Lion-2 jump in between her and the F-16 and, with a drop of some chaff, throwing him off! “Now that was quite heroic!”-she thought to herself as she turned away from the Viper, who instead began to chase Lion-1! “A real warrior never leaves his friend in need”_ she thought to herself as she turned the Fresco back in, doing her best to help Abel. She watched as the two jets were getting closer and closer, turning as if dancing a deadly waltz with voice of Abel asking for help over the radio:
Abel: <<Lion...*hup*...Two...*hup*...Support...*hup*>>

At first, she wanted to report back to Abel, saying that she’s coming to help him, but would this do him any good? The gold-plated Viper will certainly know that she’s on him and turn away! Only then she understood, why it continued to chase Abel, completely ignoring her- due to her radar being turned off, his RWR was silent! That was her chance…

Swiftly, acting as if her own life depended on this she changed radar gunsight into “gyro” mode, entered the target type and distance. She was planning to open fire at 450 meters, and, using Fresco’s vastly suprerior turn rate she was able to get a firing solution on Viper after a few turns.

“I have you now…”- she thought to herself as she squeezed the trigger, feeling the guns pound again. Invisible to her, Viper and Abel, shells streamed across the sky, however, the results were less than optimal- due to an error in distance input system, the shells converged just a few dozens of meters behind the fighter, with a, for some reason, dud HEI 23-mm rounds piercing hitting, but not exploding on Viper. What was even worse is that a 37 mm flew right past Abel’s cockpit, perhaps even allowing him to get a glimpse of it for a couple of seconds. Still, the Viper was now probably thinking that he was critically damaged and turned and dove away, possibly still appalled for his 4-gen being brought down by a plane that belongs in a museum. Helga did not bother to chase it, as it was a futile thing to do for such a slow plane. Still, she radioed in Abel:

Red: <<Lion-2, Lion-3, scratched the Viper on your tail! Sonovabitch is running with his tail tucked between his legs! Orders, sir?>>

by **Kassaran** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 7:23 am

Capt. Romolo "Sciabola" Beninati
24 November, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

Beninati from his position above the dogfight beginning to unfurl, watched as one of the Aces began to hunt the Mig pilot as she went for the cruise missiles. It wasn't a moment too soon before the hotrod pilot in number two seat flung themselves between the Mig and the encroaching Falcon. Within moments, there was a merge and the two had begun to turn. Watching as the Mig split from their targets, they pushed an attack on the viper, throwing a stream of rounds its direction before peeling off... and to Sciabola's horror, the viper which had split off, quickly had looped high and over the Mig, executing a flawless high yo yo to put the Fresco on their nose.

Sciabola: <<Lion Three, Defend! Defend! Bandit is Hot on you! Lion-2 Extend, Friendlies moving to support.>>

Thumbing off his mic from where he'd taken a position at roughly five kilometers up, he watched exasperatedly as the little Mig pilot put herself into danger and swore. There was nothing more he could do and now she'd never catch back up to the Cruise missiles being too far out of position.

"Stupida puttana si farà sparare come un cane per le strade di Manta-"

His rant was cut off as he noted the Cruise Missiles were still bearing on their original target unimpeded. There was a blackjack high above, but it wasn't his responsibility any more. Turning hard and pumping flares, he began his attack run on the remaining cruise missiles, his Phantom quickly catching up to them and closing. In the back seat, his Pherret was continuing to read off the altitude above ground as the meters fell away and the missiles came into view. His sidewinder's buzzed in his ears as the WSO cued up his number 2 sidewinder and it slid off the rails easy.

Sciabola: <<Lion One, Fox Two.>>

The missile quickly tracked an he adjusted the nose of his Phantom onto the burning exhaust of another Kh-55. The sidewinder hummed again and he heard his WSO call out a splash from the first Sidewinder.

Sciabola: <<Lion One, Fox Two. Lion One, Guns.>>

His voice was mechanical, monotone, without any passion or heat. Pure concentration as the meters ticked away on his rangefinder. The second sidewinder tracked and he pulled to the starboard, his onboard gun computer coming up as he pulled the lead on the third missile he had lined up and depressed the trigger as an intense vibration filled the aircraft. The stream of tracers flew silently across the distance. A fair amount missed, falling long or short as he began to nose up, but the remainder struck home and the missile detonated as he pulled out of his dive and moved up and away.

Sciabola: <<Splash three Priority. Two remain. Someone get on those.>>

by **Laka Strolistandiler** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 9:30 am

1st Lt. Helga "Red" von Ritterchofen

Sheiße! Where the hell to they keep coming from?!- after a quick glimpse at the rear view mirror, Helga immediately saw a Viper diving back on her, possibly angered and/or amazed by the fact that he was almost shot down by a plane probably twice older than the F-16’s pilot himself…

Red: <<Lion-3, defending bandit Viper, need assistance>>

She knew just what the enemy was going to do next- prep an AIM-9L, push the nose up, to give the missile a good firing solution, and fire it off at her Fresco. She also knew what he expected her to do- enter a steady bank to the left or right, probably pop off a couple of flares and then get disintegrated by the missile’s warhead. However she had other plans- her MiG-17 could easily sustain a max overload of up to 12G, which was far more than 9G at which the Viper ripped. She was also, at the moment, going around .8M, an optimal speed for such a maneuver, at least, according to her father’s tales. “Now or never!”

The moment Viper shot off it’s AIM-9L, she turned hard into the missile, as well as made sure to turn off the afterburner- no need to provide the seeker with an enlarged thermal signature. She then continued to roll over towards the ground, gaining more energy making sure than she never pulled directly into the missile. This manuever, at such speeds had resulted in an extreme G overload,- barely remaining conscious she took a brief glimpse at the accelerometer, only to witness, to her horror that a small white arrow was barely touching the red-painted 12G overload. Fighting for her conscience not to loose her blood-depraved brain, she took a glimpse into the rear view mirror, and saw the missile buzz just a couple dozens of meters away from the MiG, loosing track. A brief moment of joy had immediately changed into a moment of horrifying realization-during the last turn she had bleed nearly 150 kph of speed, with the Viper now sitting closely behind her- barely .8 kilometers!

Will he fire guns or will he launch a missile, will he fire guns or will he launch a missile…- Helga’s blood-deprived brain could now onl6 think about these two things, and much to her horror and despair, the enemy pilot chose the latter. However, for some reason he did not put enough lead into the missile, thus giving Helga another chance to defend herself… A hard bank into the missile, as well as the Sidewinder, for some reason not beginning to immediately track the target (possibly electronics error or failure), she was even able to defend against this one as well, with the two planes now descended to an angels .5. Since she was initially going slower, pulling up for her was no problem, however, should the Viper attempt to mimic her flight path this could lead to an over-G and subsequent destruction of the plane, which made him to extend away, possibly to go in later for another attack. Helga used this brief moment of rest to check on the MiG’s systems and to report in over the radio:

Res: <<This… huff… Lion… huff… 2… Sidewin… Defeated… Assistance… Can’t hol…>> was the only thing she could say after two hard g maneuvers, while looking around, trying to keep track on so many things, including a Viper, who was performing a rather standard extension manuever.

by **Rupudska** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 10:27 am

2nd Lt. Sonja Cosic "Mudfish"
24 November, 2015 // Vitoze, Republic of Emmeria // Partly Cloudy

Missiles on the deck were a hard thing for other missiles to shoot at, even with the proper guidance needed to lock onto them. Sonja knew this, just as she knew a jet, or a propeller aircraft, was just as hard to hit with old enough missiles when it was screaming along on the deck.

She'd taken advantage of the fact before, and had targets slip away by using it before as well. A Cessna can't carry a very good radar, after all.

Neither can an old Harrier, she thought as she aimed her Harrier towards the missiles. They were fast, but a Harrier could catch up to them without much issue. The problem was whether a Sidewinder could do the same.

Her hand moved to launch a Sidewinder at the missile she was approaching, then thought better of it. They probably had some damned big warheads, but they weren't Nimbus warheads, so going in for guns should be safe...

Her shot lined up, she opened fire. <<Guns.>>

Bullets raced out of the twin gunpods on her Harrier and tracked up towards the missile, punching into the occasional tree as they marched on. A few struck, and that was all it took to destroy the Kh-55 in a colossal explosion that was much to close for comfort. Mudfish made a very undignified sound as she yanked back hard on the stick to get away, her plane shaking from the airblast.

Leveling back out in the little time there was left before the missiles struck home, she decided to do this the simpler way.

<<Enforcer Three, Fox Two.>>

Her last missile dropped away, and rocketed straight towards another Kent. At first she was concerned they would collide, but she saw a tiny explosion followed by a much larger one - a good, clean kill. A lucky shot, if there ever was one in a Harrier.

<<Enforcer Three is Winchester, out of missiles.>>

by **Offer Erapia** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 11:56 am

2nd. Lt Adam "Jester" Winters

At the merge Adam snapped his head around to track the enemy aircraft. The opposing F16 banked hard to the left trying to entice a two circle engagement. Knowing better than to continue his turn Adam quickly rolled his mirage, countering with a one circle. His body was pressed against his seat as he brought his nose around. Even as he did this he continued to watch the enemy like a hawk. Thanks to his early lead turn Adam had faired better in the turn than his counterpart. He began to line up his jostling reticle, letting off a short burst of his 30s in an attempt to retire the enemy machine to an early grave. His rounds missed flying past the Vipers wing tip by a few meters.

The enemy pilot tightened down his turn and shot out from Adams HUD. He rolled his aircraft and followed the enemy quickly reversed the turn and shot towards the heavens, white vapors bleeding from its neck as it did. The grey and blue mirage quickly followed suit. The engine metallic cry heightened as he pressed the throttle forward. The engine emitting a bright yellow, cone shaped, flame as he put on the afterburner. Both planes seemed like rockets as they ascended towards space. He glanced down at his altimeter the two hands spiraling in a circle as they both passed twenty thousand feet.

His brown eyes danced along his control surfaces. Although he was gaining altitude he was losing a substantial amount of speed. As if to agree with him his craft slightly began to shake. He pulled the stick back breaking from the climb but doing this presented a problem. He was giving his ass up to the enemy and the viper, realizing this, started the exit the climb as well. Adam came off of the after burner and preemptively began to drop flares. It was only a few seconds that that a spine chilling tone exploded into his ears. The RWR gave an urgent alert that the enemy was locking him up. He nearly snapped his neck as he watch the viper come in high on his eight O clock.

<<Jester: this is Enforcer 5, I got a Viper on my six, going evasive.>>

The speed that he gained from his dive he used to pull up and turn in attempting to jam the vipers WEZ. His plane begrudgingly agreed and whipped into a tight turn. The viper followed, at this point adams mind began flipping through possible solutions. He began jinking left and right reversing his turns in order to break the lock. To a normal pilots perspective it would seem Adam was starting to panic, but, in actuality he was trying to bring the Viper in close whilst jamming the enemy WEZ. His short turn reversals and small barrel rolls were eventually starting to working. His headset began having breaks in the high pitched tone that plagued his ears. Looking over his shoulder one last time he judged the F16 to be about eighty meters behind him. He took a deep breath and broke left. He kicked the rudder and pulled his plane up cashing in the last of its speed to perform a high yoyo.

The viper, like his mirage, was slow. But the saving grace of the mirage was its high AOA and Adam had just gained an altitude advantage. He suddenly rolled his plane over and back down he watched as his nose was on an intercept course with the viper. The aircraft in question suddenly pulled to the left trying to escape his opponents HUD. Adam knew it was going to be close but he had faith in his skill and in luck. In a split second he squeezed the trigger just as the viper began to turn out of his sights. The mirages guns sent a stream of hot lead. The two planes broke past each other with one going left and the other straight. Adam looked back to see a beautiful sight, the viper was ditching from the engagement along with it was a gorgeous and large hole in its right wing. Accompanying that was a trailing stream of thick white smoke.

Not wasting any time Adam through on after burners and began heading back for home, rather happy to be alive. But his happiness would be short live a desperate message had shot to his headset and into his ear.

<<Mayday, Mayday. This is Enforcer-4. I have lost all engine power and most control ability. I am beginning an unpowered glide on a heading of 2-5-8 en route to Campagna. Repeat, this is Enforcer-4, Mayday Mayday. Dropping all munitions to lose weight.>>

The message of mayday had turned his blood cold. And to make it worse it was someone in his flight. He quickly opened his comms reaching out to the troubled pilot.

<<Jester: Enforcer 5 to Enforcer 4 im coming to assist, Enforcer 5 to flight lead im bingo on fuel and guns im bugging out to RTB.>>

He kept his voice calm and collected. He turned to his proper heading and flew straight. As he did he kept an eye out for his wounded wingman. His eyes frantically searched the skies above as well as behind him he couldn't risk any surprises by the enemy. Not only did he not have much fuel or ammo left but his gauge alerted him that he was one his last few flares. truth be told he was lucky to escape this battle alive. As he contemplated his life decisions his eyes were distracted by a small black spec off in front of him. It was no doubt his flight member he gunned the engine and was quickly catching up.

<<Jester: Enforcer 5 to enforcer 4 I'm coming up on your left.>>

by **Anowa** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 12:58 pm

1st Lt. Victoria "Abel" Cain
November 24th, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

For a moment, Abel was of the belief that she was alone in this fight, that everyone else was already preoccupied. Until she saw vapour trails ripping past of a caliber that wasn't of the F-16s. As she pulled up and to the side hard, she felt a heavier than normal impact as her canopy spiderwebbed. Glancing up in fear, she noticed the projectile, was definitely not 20mm in size.

That momentary distraction was all the already unstable airframe needed.

When one drives a car, you can feel when the rear wheels lose traction and begin to fishtail. What Abel was going through was a similar feeling. having sustained the maneuver for an iota longer than she needed, she felt the gut shifting feeling of the plan going in to a flatspin.

Grounbd, air, ground, air, was all that Abel could see in a blurry display as she was moving horizontally, and then vertically in a plane with no lift.

"Fuck."

Her hand yanked the throttle back to an idle. She was spinning left, so her right foot depressed it's respective pedal all the way in. Her eyes remained locked on her altimeter, as she pushed the stick forward as hard as she good after the spin began to slow. As the AoA wasn't changing, she began applying the throttle, slowly but surely increasing power as the altimeter ticked down rapidly.

Laka Strolistandiler wrote:Red: <<This… huff… Lion… huff… 2… Sidewin… Defeated… Assistance… Can’t hol…>>

Red, unfortunately was right.

As the F-16 suddenly and rapidly accelerated away, like any half decent pilot would in this situation, for a moment, it seemed to be in the clear. The F-16, previously toying with the ancient Airframe in a sadistic dance in which the veteran pilot, with more than a dozen kills to his name, was merely giving the MiG-17 some hope of being able to win. At about 15 kilometers out, he turned back in, hard.

An AIM-120 slid off the rails, and was making a solid beeline for the now worn down and already damaged 65 year old airframe. From the angle it was fired, and the distance, there would be no avoiding it no matter what maneuvers were done. The AMRAAM detonated some distance away, but still close enough to shred the airframe with shrapnel. The MiG-17, which had poked a very dangerous bear too many times, was now trailing smoke and fire from it's now obliterated engine. Any attempt to move the control surfaces would be met with absolutely zero resistance. Not indicating damage to systems, as the hydraulic fluid and airflow would make moving said surfaces harder, no. The hydraulics system was empty, and the surfaces it was supposed to move were gone.

The vehicle quickly went in to it's own flatspin, not due to inherent instability, but rather because the entire tail section of the craft had been shredded to pieces and thusly erased by the missile. In much the same pattern Abel just went through, except there would be no recovering, there would be ejecting, or there would be smashing in to the earth in a metal coffin, or burning to death.

The F-16 for it's part, started ascending back to the bomber formation, seemingly unfazed by the pitiful attempt to properly kill it.

by **Laka Strolistandiler** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 2:52 pm

1st Lt. Helga "Red" von Ritterchofen
“Well, that’s the end of it… Thanks for the fun time and have a very nice day!”

Red: <<Lion-3, I’m hit, I’m hit! Entering a flat spin, can’t control the plane, punching out!>>

Pulling the ejection switch, she saw the aircraft glass cockpit seemingly immediately disappear with a force pushing her and her ejection seat away from the dying plane. While gliding down with a chute, she analyzed the fight and did her best to learn from the mistakes, out of which she deduced her 3 main misdeeds: a badly chosen plane, a badly chosen engagement and a lack of teamwork. Now she still had more than enough funds to solve the first problem, calving the second one simply required her to be more safe and cautious next time, and finally the latter time can be fixed by following her wingman next time more closely… As well as inviting a certain friend of hers…

Upon landing, she made a quick use of her radio, reporting her safe landing as well as loudly cursing at the F-16 pilot who had shot her down. Very soon she was picked up by friendly ground crew, who just happened to be stationed at the SAM site she shot down Su-17 near to. Overall, the remainder of the fight for her would be chatting with the fellow soldiers over some random things…

by **Ubaria** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 4:27 pm

_{14th November, 2015
0600 Hours - Local Time
Dana Fischer
Vitoze, Republic of Emmeria
Engaging}

The vigorous essence of adrenaline pumped through Dana's veins, not that she was particularly conscious of it's current effects on her body and mind. She was much too involved in the moment and concentrating on staying alive to particularly think about it. Training had prepared her for this moment but now that the Beiarusian pilot was there on the stage now, everything had boiled down to reaction and intuition. Her eyes sprinted between dials, gauges and the skies around, taking in every bit of information as the enemy swarmed the skies, a lump hung in her throat.

To make things worse, the enemy had been backed up by a flight of four F-16 Vipers. A fourth-generation fighter jet that was thoroughbred for dogfighting, utilizing a fly-by-wire system that far outclassed anything the mercenaries were currently flying, if allowed to close the distance they posed a significant threat.

<<I'm hit! Enforcer-4 is hit.>>

Dana turned to see the Thundercheif of Second Lieutenant McLeod dive violently, an Estovakian F-16 screamed past not a few seconds later with it's 20mm cannon blaring. The gold clad fighters wasting no time in going to work. Another F-16 had latched onto the tail of Abel, incidentally also flying a Draken. Lion had also noticed and immediately swooped to her comrades aid. Dana twisted her own craft in an offensive wingover, giving immediate chase.

As Dana closed in, Lion-3 had already sent a lance of cannon fire into the rear of the attacker, only managing to strike a glancing blow which seemed more than enough to discourage it from maintaining chase on Abel. It waved off and sped away from the MiG-17, buying itself some distance.

<< Enforcer-2. Visual one Viper. Engaging. >>

Dana punched the throttle. Speeding past both Abel's Draken and Red's Fresco to play catchup with the fleeing Viper. For a moment she wondered why the pilot was retreating, it wasn't as if it was particularly outclassed by any of them and immediately it was apparent why. It wheeled around for another attack run. One AiM-120 separated from it's wing and like a bolt of lightning made a beeline for the Fresco at deadly speed, detonating within close proximity. Dana watched helplessly as shrapnel tore several holes through the MiG's airframe and perforated the engine, causing it to choke out.

"Shit!"

Dana tore her eyes from the limping Fresco and back to it's attacker who was now returning to protecting the remainder of the bombers. Anger dictated Sirin's next moves. Flying with much disregard for the rest of the furball, she made headway towards the Falcon who was moving almost perpendicular across the nose of her Draken, perhaps not quite within effective range of a Sidewinder but well within range of her Semi-Active guided AiM-4's. Dana consulted the radar cross section and slewed the plane into a more favourable position. As her fire control radar painted up the Falcon, it was immediately apparent it had triggered his RWR, alerting him to the fact he was being watched.

The Falcon twisted to the left and began slowing for a tight turn in one deft motion, though damage he had sustained due to Red's attack earlier meant that his turning circle had been significantly affected due to damage to either the control surfaces or internally. Would that put the Draken on even ground to dogfight? Dana somehow doubted it and a sinking feeling of regret washed over her. In her haste, she had just picked a fight with the worst plane she possibly could have and with the element of surprise gone, the odds were significantly tilted against her. However, backing out now would mean her fate would be sealed certainly, her only option was to press and hope the pilot made a mistake.

The Viper pilot popped chaff, temporarily throwing the Draken's aged radar off target and allowing them to maneuver into a more favourable attacking position and it seemed in this pilot's mind he'd attack from above, burning hard in an upwards fashion. Dana had to think fast. From her current course and speed the Viper would easily outmaneuver her and instead of pulling defensively, she slowed the craft and turned tight, bringing her into the same vector as the Falcon, but several hundred feet below and behind it. Sirin braced against the veritable effects of physics as it stole her vision, the periphery of which darkened leaving only a hazy spot that remained affixed to the enemy. The Viper reacted by slowing themselves and turning starboard wing down, pulling into an arc tighter than the Draken could follow.

Dana choked the throttle more and in response the Viper began coming back around in a sweeping arc, within a couple of seconds it would be back upon her and so she had to act fast. By now the chaff had dissipated and the radar once again attained lock.

<< Enforcer-2 Fox One, Fox One! >>

In a panic, Dana fired both and the Draken wobbled with the sudden loss of the two large missiles. The AiM-4 was a large missile, largely ineffective at targeting nimble fighters, the Falcon was probably last on the list of ideal targets.

The Viper pilot noticed and punched his craft into a dive underneath the missile's flight path. A simple maneuver that ultimately worked as Dana couldn't move quick enough to keep her Radar on target. Each missile harmlessly sped off into the distance. She cursed. One missile left and a cannon with one-hundred rounds. Not ideal against an equal target, let alone this.

<< Missiles trashed. Closing >>

Her Draken rattled under such stress. For a moment Dana legitimately thought her wings were going to shear off at the roots, or the engine to lose pressure again but the fifty or so year old fighter still had something left to give, and she'd need everything. Dana twisted the Draken around in a low speed loop, however the Falcon had beat her to the line and was speeding straight at her.

<< Fuck! >>

What she thought had been a red light had infact been a stream of tracers headed straight for her canopy. Only a last minute dodge to the right avoided a sudden end to her career and the Falcon passed not much later, already twisting to make another pass. Dana was soon running out of options, she watched with dread as the enemy pilot once again climbed into a wingover and came back at her from behind, ready to end it. What could she do? Her mind raced through all scenarios including just punching out there and then, horrific images flitted through her mind and she didn't want to end up like her Father, bound to a flying coffin. Though as she hovered the emergency ejection, she remembered a maneuver that they had taught her in flight-school. Unorthodox, perhaps downright insane and reserved for acrobatics squadrons, she had never tried it herself but had read that the Draken possessed the ability to do it, however she had never performed it herself. What other option did she have?

Without hesitation she pitched the nose of the Draken up violently, causing all sorts of warning to chime in simultaneously. What was a relatively flat horizon suddenly became open clear sky for a moment as the Draken stood up almost on end, the flat body of the aircraft essentially acted as a massive airbrake for a moment, slowing the craft to a near stop. As the aircraft stalled, Dana pushed the nose back down and pressed the throttle to compensate for the sudden drop of speed. From her right the Falcon shot past like a bullet.

<< Haha! >>

A moment of giddy excitement overrode the post-maneuver fatigue. With the flick of a switch she bought her last remaining Sidewinder online and aimed it straight at the Falcon's tailpipe, which was just entering the Sidewinder's employment zone.

<<Fox Two!>>

It was essentially point blank as far as missiles were concerned. The moment the Falcon pilot pumped flares was the exact same moment the missile exploded towards his tail. A shockwave exploded underneath and tore the rear of the aircraft away from the rest of the airframe, essentially bisecting it, the frontal half continued for several hundred more foot before the pilot probably realized he was flying half and aircraft and decided to eject, probably dumbfounded at what had just transpired. Something Dana was also coming to grips with.

<< One ... one Bandit down. I got him! Bastard! >>

Sirin
Armament
1x 30mm ADEN cannon (100 Rounds)
0x Rb-24 (AiM-9)
0x Rb-28 (AiM-4)

Kills
1x Su-17 Fitter
1x F-16 Falcon [ACE]

by **Kyraina** » Fri Jun 25, 2021 9:30 pm

Capt. Spyro "Drifter" Beretta, Eagle 1
2nd Lt. Marco "Rondine" Petraglia, Eagle 2
2nd Lt. Henrietta "Limaf" Middleton, Eagle 3

Drifter had heard Lion-1's call to form back up when he saw a crazy glint off in the distance, and then watched as they pounced on the Pilot in the Thud and saw something streaking towards the Mig and then a it go for Lion-2 in the Mirage 3.

Drifter: <<Eagle Flight, Eagle 1 form up on me and we will go after the Bastard on the bottom of the formation. We work as a team and all of us go home.>>

Drifter accelerated the Crusader towards the formation of bombers and F-16s, while Ignoring the cruise missiles, and dove for the ground, pulling up just above tree top level. He was hoping to use ground clutter but it wasn't working as the F-16 on the belly of the formation broke and headed towards Eagle Flight. He noticed the Golden color and then the massive radar signature the thing was giving off, and wondered why that was

Drifter: <<Eagle Flight, Eagle 1. There is something off about these F-16s the radar signature isn't right at all. It has a massive cross section, I think we can't count on radar guided missiles here. How Copy?>>

Rondine: <<Eagle Two, Lima Charlie.>>

Drifter noticed something jettison from the bottom of the F-16 and then his RWR started going off. Meanwhile in Rondine's Phantom, the RWR blared and he cranked hard to starboard, hearing his WSO begin to breathe heavily trying to stay conscious in the turn. Before he could try and put out the warning, the flight lead beat him to it.

Drifter: <<Eagle flight, Eagle 1 Break Formation. Missiles in bound.>>

Rondine clicked twice as Drifter pulled up and to port, the F-16 following him, and getting on Drifter's six before Drifter started a series of Rolling Scissors

Edinorog-Guild 1:<<Guild Squadron, Guild 1. I'm Engaged with 2 Phantoms and a Crusader. Worry about the Others. I Got these 3, Guild Squadron Engage the rest, keep them from engaging the bombers and cruise missiles>>

Drifter kept up the rolling scissors up till it became apparent the f-16 was sticking to his ass. He pull flattened out and went into a side loop, with Guild 1 directly across from his location, and closing as the F-16 was slowly turning inside The Crusader's arc. Drifter flipped the plane 180 degrees and tried to circle back around but the F-16 followed before Drifter went into rolling scissors with Guild 1 following him but the F-16 wasn't able to maintain lock with missiles or get a gun picture.

Drifter: <<Eagle Flight where you at? This guy is hounding my ass.>>

Edinorog-Guild 1: <<They won't be able to help to help you now, and you're not a half bad pilot managing to keep me from shooting down that old worn out hunk of junk you call a plane.>>

Even as the pilot tried to intimidate him, his RWR lit up as the radar from Rondine's aircraft began to paint him from some distance away. The mic came alive as a streak of rocket-smoke spilled down and away from the underside of the Phantom and sped towards the pair. Even if the radar signature was too large, it would have to be factored into how he'd forced to maneuver.

Rondine: <<Eagle Two, Fox One. Watch the merge Drifter. Eagle Three, get a Two on that Viper.>>

Drifter put the the Crusader 2 into a starboard high g turn, Fighting G-lock the entire time, while the F-16 of Edinorog broke into a high g port side turn, dumping chaff and flares to fool the Missile launched by Rondine. The Crusader and and falcon came out of their turns and came head on too each other.

Annette Middleton, at some eight thousand metres above the action below had just arrived back from sending the other Bear to meet their makers, a journey back and forth of some minutes. This time delay and her subsequent orders to take a supporting station high above the battlefield presented her with an unparalleled energy advantage over her target. An advantage she now intended to fully exploit having not been born IQ-liberated.

<<Eagle Two. Eagle Three will make one pass at speed. Stand By.>>

High up in the heavens, two General Electric J79’s screeched to life with brilliantly blue diamonds trailing after them as Eagle Three made their extreme descent, the nose-mounted rotary cannon menacingly following the gaudily accoutred F-16.

With the radar and jammer pod all shut down for maximum surprise Annette relied solely on the seeker on top of her Sidewinders and her thermal imager to gauge the distance, and let loose with a [ b]<<Eagle Two. Fox Two.>>[/b] as soon as a lock tone came. With the mach meter reading somewhere north of 1.5 she ignored where her missile went to instead pull her flying brick upwards, as hard as the plane would let her and made to get off again in a shower of flares.

Both Drifter and Edinorog both came out of their flat turns facing each other and accelerated at each other to close for missiles but close enough for guns when suddenly Edinorog broke into a new direction with a missile streaking buy into the ground. Drifter followed Edinorog and lined up the sights, made sure guns was selected and depressed the Trigger. One shot came out of the Crusader's cannons before jamming.

Drifter: <<Eagle 1, Guns, Guns, Guns. Shit my Guns are jammed. Repeat my Guns are jammed.>>

The F-16 went through a series of hard maneuvers with the Crusader following, and eventually managed to get behind Drifter. He was being dogged again but decided to try something so stupid and crazy it might worked. He put the Crusader into vertical scissors, and pushed the throttle all the way forward. The Golden F-16 followed

Edinorog: <<Your that desperate, well I'll indulge you, then blast you out of the sky.>>

Drifter smiled and pulled back on the throttle and deployed his air brakes, effectively stalling the Crusader, and the F-16 of shot pass the stalling plane. Drifter quickly acquired lock and let his last two AIM-9s fly, while pushing the throttle forward as the Crusader, fell back towards Earth, pulled up into a climb to follow the F-16 of Edinorog..

Drifter: <<Eagle 1, Fox 2 x2, Fox 2 x2.>>

Edinorog: <<What the Fu----, Shit you son of a bi----->>Static

One AIM-9 impacted into the portside wing, while the other Sidewinder went up the engine and detonated. A chute was visible just a couple seconds after the impacts, and was seen drifting towards the Airport.

Drifter: <<Eagle 1 Splash 1 Bogey. Good work Eagle Flight. I'm Winchester on Missiles and my gun's are Jammed. Eagle 1 Romeo Tango Bravo. Eagle 2 your in charge.

Combat Log:
Ammo:
389x 20mm APHE
0x AIM-9

Kills:
2x SU-17
1x MiG-21
1x Edinorog (Ace)

by **Hastur** » Sat Jun 26, 2021 4:52 pm

Second Lieutenant Marceline "Mooncalf" Faucheux
November 24, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

The pursuing MiG's were getting far too close for comfort. Wings swept-back, Marceline pushed the Fitter into afterburner, confident that her Su-17 could, at the very least, make some distance before the MiG-21's had proper sights. The RWR had sounded once or twice to indicate that radar had pinged, but no solid lock-on had yet been achieved -- the enemy pilot was likely having trouble in doing so thanks to Vigil and the ECM pods. Fortunately two aircraft belonging to Assassin were quick to intercept on her behalf.

Merlin: <<Assassin Three, I'm comin', stay easy. Assassin Two, let's go.>>

In short order the MiG-21's had broken off the pursuit, one being shot-down almost immediately with the other going evasive as it, too, was engaged. Slowing, Marceline had the moment to take stock of the ongoing situation. "Sitrep?" she inquired of Vigil over the intercom.

The man checked their six o'clock before glancing back down to their instruments. "The 21's are dead. Make sure you tell Rattler and Merlin thank you. We're yellow on gun-pods but still have missiles. Turning on ECM on your go, Calf. Blackjacks and those stupid goldfish are coming in."

"Give me a heading."

Another moment passed as he plotted the course. "The Blackjacks are at heading zero-eight-three, intercept at heading zero-nine-zero and climb. I'm not giving you the heading for those hotshots, bombers are the priority, Calf."

She nodded, pulling back on the controls to gain altitude as she banked onto an intercept path. Again, she was confident in the speed of her Sukhoi, however, with limited experience in air-to-air (having served primarily as an attacker) felt a moment's hesitation in simply diving head-first into the fray, especially against a target that could move as fast as she could, and more-so when it had capable escorts. Worse she'd have to contend with countermeasures and was somewhat unfamiliar with the capabilities of the missiles that she currently had stocked. Not that she couldn't be useful.

Mooncalf: <<Zis is Assassin-Three to Assassin-Four. Moving to intercept inbound Tupolev. Are you in position to provide support? Will provide an opening if you can.>> She then addressed the other two that had come to her assistance. <<Assassin-One; Assassin-Two. Escorts are active. Friendly ECM is available if you can stick close.>>

Captain Samuel 'Merlin' Daniel
Vitoze, Emmeria // November 24, 2015

Rattler: << Bandit splashed. I’m winchester missiles but I’m still good to fight. >>

Mooncalf: <<Zis is Assassin-Three to Assassin-Four. Moving to intercept inbound Tupolev. Are you in position to provide support? Will provide an opening if you can. Assassin-One; Assassin-Two. Escorts are active. Friendly ECM is active if you can stick close.>>

Merlin: << Alright, Assassin, tighten up under the ECM cover and let's intercept them. Rattler and I will take the F-16s, Mooncalf the Bear, and Bones and F.R.O.G will go high and provide overhead cover. We'll fall into a loose wedge, Mooncalf at the back, Rattler on my right, Bones and F.R.O.G on my left. >>

The pilots of Assassin acknowledged and eventually they fell into a formation, intercepting the bombers and their escorts, careful to stay within the protective range of Mooncalf’s electronic countermeasures to avoid being targeted too early. The escorts, seeing a group of bandits emerge from the furball headed directly for them, made for an intercept course to keep them from the bombers. Their plating would make radar guided munitions unreliable, however Dan had no doubt that a missile, however inaccurate, would make the pilot react, even if a flinch.

Merlin: << Rattler, I’ll take the one on the left. Fox Three. >>[/color]

Dan had watched as his missile flew off it’s rail, not towards his target, but towards Rattlers. She’d need the help, no missiles and against a newer plane would be a task. Dan knew she had some experience, but he’d been flying almost as long as she’d been alive. She’d need the help more than him.

The F-16 dodged, still not wanting to risk their life and trust some gold plating, and deployed chaff. The missile was trashed, but that was expected, it allowed Rattler some time to position herself to attack.

Dan, now outside of Mooncalf’s ECM range, was now being locked. He let it happen, waiting for the tone before going evasive and deploying his own chaff, him as easily trashing the missile coming for him. The golden F-16 dove in behind him, and Dan found himself on the wrong side of the game of cat and mouse.

First Lieutenant Miriam “Rattler” Lochte
Vitoze, Emmeria // November 24, 2015

Rattler: << Wilko. Good hunting! Assassin One, Let’s get ‘em! >>

Rattler fell in, moving her plane into position carefully, soaring to greet the foe under the umbrella of the electric countermeasures. She stared with anticipation as their new dance partners started to make their opening. Starting with the intercept as the light glittering from their plating, their blips danced on the radar console from one spot to the next. Whatever was attached was interfering with their sensors. Not that she would require them. She was down to her cannon now.

Merlin: << Rattler, I’ll take the one on the left. Fox Three. >>

Merlin fired off his opening, his missile darting off towards her target, to which it responded by launching a bouquet of white chaff before sliding into a defensive posture. The missile flaring into a haze of orange and black. The regal F-16 diving tight, generating more of an opportunity for her to slide in.

Rattler: << Copy! Thanks for the opening! Gonna slide myself into this waltz and teach him how Belkans dance! >>

Her expression was sanguine, bordering on haughty, but she recognized that the odds were stacked. The nagging doubt challenged her confidence and her honour. The F-16 was a fresher, stronger bird than the maturing Mirage she flew. One that could fly circles around her if she let him get the upper hand. Pressure was the aim. She could not let up for one second and had to abuse every mistake he performed. A good craftsman never blamed their tools, merely adapted.

So she accompanied him down the rabbit hole.

She twisted the stick, flicking her bird into a steep dive after the golden falcon moved eloquently below. Twisting and turning as it attempted to shake her. Miriam struggled to align her sight on target as he pulled trick after trick. Her breathing spat through clenched teeth as the literal weight of her actions pounded her. She matched him move for move, but always a second too late. Not fast enough. She was following his sheet, not hers. She could not lose, especially to a megalomaniacal tyrant’s interpretation of a proper plane.

“Damn!” Miriam sputtered. Her finger perched on the stick’s trigger, eyes wide, scanning everything from the target reticule as she got close to her surroundings as she missed. Attempted to reap something that could provide her the edge while observing for other attackers coming to attend the pecking order. Her bird was wavering, becoming parched as the manoeuvres robbed its strength. The F-16 performing better against the hurdles. It was now or never in her eyes, her plane being within the clutch of destruction as they traversed through the morning sky. The dawn light was sharper now, the reflective surface making it laborious to see perfectly.

But that worked both ways.

Miriam broke left fast, disengaging from the turning battle as the F-16 entered a long turn. She climbed towards the burning sun, throwing everything she had into the throttle. Afterburners spitting fire as the plane rocketed into the air. She twisted the bird into a barrel roll as she reached the peak and began twisting herself into his turn, moving in for a high-side gun pass. The surface of the falcon made for an easy beacon to dive in as she fought against gravity. The plane diving in for the attack. Finally, the other pilot, struggling against his own highly reflective surface, for just a single moment, hesitated.

Rattler: << Guns! Guns! Guns! >>

Her cry was energized, aggressive as she squeezed the trigger. The Mirage shuddered vehemently as it ousted its 30mm fangs. The revolver Cannon hissing out its munitions at a formidable 1900 rounds per minute. Green lines dashing through the sky as she bore the trigger down for an entire second, a few meeting their target at the back end of his fuselage. The SAPHEI cartridges inflicting mayhem on the frame. Thin smoke billowed gingerly from the mark as his instruments faltered.

The ball was in her court now. The speed advantage that he had was gone as the engines spattered. She recognized he had failed already. She hesitated for a moment, finger hovering over the trigger as the sights aligned, she gave him a chance to scurry home as he turned. But he did not. He had no intention of giving up, realising he could no longer win against the Mirage 3. He Entered a high G barrel roll as he pushed the crippled engines to its limits to avoid the Mirages cannon. His plane began dashing for the flight path of Assassin 3 & 4’s SU-17M3.

Vigil: <<While you're at it, we've got a Goldfish on us. Calf let's break.>>

Son of a bitch!” Miriam exclaimed, following him, carrying out a fierce turn as the gravitational force plunged into her. Her breathing irregular as she adhered to his last-ditch attempt. Shards of gold, shrapnel, and machine zoomed past her compartment, oil splattering the glass as the hostile plane began falling apart. The guided falcon dooming itself to a destiny of certain destruction. All that counted now to the pilot was one last performance of vengeance.

The mirage twirled through each barrel roll as she tested him, making it troublesome to concentrate on effectively managing her guns. He didn’t have to worry about that against his target. He still had his seekers left, and the target wasn’t explicitly making it difficult as it tunnelled onto the Tu-95.

Her first salvo missed its mark altogether, green tracers mottling into the orange skies, his airplane twirling as flames shimmered from the contusions in the falcon’s skin. The engines dying as it lost speed from the bold movement and coming engine failure. He was well within range for a lock now, but her sights aligned one last time.

Rattler: << Guns! Guns! Guns! >>

It rang sincere. The claws of her mirage clipped the falcon’s gaudy wings from its body as the hazy vapor of smoke turned into a billowing fire. Her enemy distorted downward. A fierce blast spewed from the cabin as the pilot ejected. Their chute mushroomed into the air as it ripped its pilot from the wreck. The mythical fowl that had been pushed one stride too far now ignited, collapsing into the ground with a small fireball.

Rattler: << Assassin two, Bandit Splashed. >>

Miriam’s lungs almost exploded as she panted. Evening the airplane out as she desperately drew oxygen in. She was strained and fatigued. The strain of the rapid turns had taken its toll as she took a minute to collect herself. But emotionally, she was riding high, elated. That had been a fight she’d almost lost, almost neck and neck, but she’d come out on top.

She was officially an ace now.

“Wow.” She stammered, a lengthy grin broadening as she paid attention to the pilot’s descent to safety. Living to see another day. Her smirk shifted to a warming, shaky snicker. “You almost had me. Good fight my friend.” The moment savoured, she continued to join her flight. See in which way she could continue to assist, energy renewed.

Captain Samuel 'Merlin' Daniel
Vitoze, Emmeria // November 24, 2015

Rattler: << Copy! Thanks for the opening! Gonna slide myself into this waltz and teach him how Belkans dance! >>

Merlin: << Aye. Bandit on my tail, going evasive. >>

The F-16 was newer, but the two were similarly matched in all areas except thrust to weight. The longer Dan was being tailed, the more likely that it was that he'd be locked. He went evasive, turning and burning, as he descended, using the gravity to keep his energy high, but that worked both ways. He waited for his opportunity, for the ace to slip in a maneuver, and one presented itself. A less than optimal turn on the F-16's part. Dan hit his air brakes, and watched as the F-16 blew past him. He went full burn, chasing the bandit, trying to get a lock on him, trying to lead his target some, until eventually he got tone.

Merlin: << Fox two! >>

The F-16 went evasive, dumping flares and going even lower, before trashing the missile.

Merlin: << Missile trashed. Going for guns. >>

Tracers danced around the F-16, the jet bobbing and weaving around the stream, before Dan ceased fire, and trying again. Just as it was more likely he'd be locked the longer he was on the receiving end, it was more likely he'd lose his chance the longer he stayed on the F-16. He made them dance as much as he could, kept them busy with his weapons, made them bleed as much energy as he could while saving as much of his own as he could. Although, it could only go on for so long, and Dan knew this. He controlled the F-16, his tracers making them dodge and evade in a pattern, and something that was predictable. This advantage wouldn't last long, and Dan prepared for his next move. Another cannon burst, forcing the F-16 right where he wanted it.

Rattler: << Assassin two, Bandit Splashed. >>

Merlin: << Fox two! >>

The Sidewinder flew off it's rail on a favorable angle of attack, streaking across the sky as it intercepted the F-16. A desperate attempt to dispense flares was made, but it was too little too late. The missile exploded, impacting the engine of the F-16, the pilot ejecting as his jet went spiraling towards the ground.

Merlin: << Scratch one bandit. Mooncalf, status? >>

Mooncalf: <<Wait one...>>

He sighed. All he had left was guns, using his remaining missiles on the aces. He leveled out his jet and sighed before getting a handle on his breathing as he recovered from the g-forces he had endured during the dogfight. I'm not as young as I once was, he thought as he pulled his craft around. Fuel was low but not bingo, Dan was still in the fight.

by **Beiarusia** » Sat Jun 26, 2021 8:55 pm

Second Lieutenant Marceline "Mooncalf" Faucheux
November 24, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

She acknowledged the order and quickly slipped into formation alongside the Mirage (Rattler) and Tiger (Merlin), trailing position, wings swept-back and ECM active to mitigate their radar signature. The Tornado (Bones) and the Fishbed (FROG) would take some time to rejoin, time they did not have, so Marceline took some liberty in redirecting them to more suitable intercept positions. Or, at least, told Vigil to do so as she focused on her piloting maneuvers.

Vigil: <<Bones, Frog, forget about going with us, Calf wants you to intercept and destroy from another angle. Go with it.>>

The WSO then reached forward to knock on her helmet. "Calf, what're you thinking? I can't read your mind."

Deadpan, and slightly annoyed, she replied, "Tupolevs move fast. Better if we push; they can from a better angle."

The trio of aircraft were soon spotted by the gold-colored Falcons that hadn't yet dispersed from escort duty. Moving to intercept, Merlin was quick to open the engagement with a missile launch (trashed, though had served its purpose to create an opening) with Rattler following close behind to capitalize. Marceline continued forward, going low and underneath the developing dogfight in full afterburner, intending to swing up from below like the shark she was. "I need eyes on target," she called out to Vigil, scanning the morning skies above for the high-flying bomber. It took less than a second for Vigil to reply as he slewed the radar: "I've got him locked for your Heads-Up, your ten o'clock high. Do your thing Calf."

Adjusting her pitch, the young pilot slowed the Sukhoi, sweeping the wings forward to better bite into the atmosphere for a tighter arc as she angled upwards and into a slanted Immelmann. With visual acquired, she watched as the Blackjack passed several thousand meters overhead. Rolling level she punched the engine to its fullest throttle and climbed to match altitude. The Tupolev was pulling away, but the speed gap was soon slowing, and then reversing as the Sukhoi gave chase with wings swept-back, engine hot. They were trailing by less than ten kilometers and gaining.

Mooncalf: <<Making my run on target.>>

Vigil: <<Good lock, Assassin 4-2, Fox 3.>>

An R-73 dropped off the rail and ignited it's engine, speeding away as a white smoke trail puffed out and extended away with the missile before shortly cutting off as the engine died. The Blackjack soon let loose a flurry of reflective chaff in response, and a disappointing lack of explosion soon following that up. Vigil keyed back into the radio for the flight to hear as they continued to trail.

Vigil: <<Missile Trashed, someone follow up while he's thinking of us.>>

He looked to his RWR as it pinged him with a new contact: they were being locked, and by a Falcon no less. He looked over his shoulder to their five o'clock and keyed the radio again.

Vigil: <<While you're at it, we've got a Goldfish on us. Calf let's break.>>

There was no immediate break into evasive maneuvers. Instead, she continued on course, slowly grinding down the distance between them and the fleeing Blackjack even as the RWR sounded its high-pitched tone. The target was still up and flying. “Ready another,” Marceline said, tone even despite the imminent threat just behind them.

Vigil did a double take, more annoyed than anything. “Break, Calf, or I’m taking control away from you. We don’t have time for-”
Rattler: <<Assassin two, Bandit Splashed.>>
The RWR went silent as the Falcon was shot down. A moment passed, the only noise being the muted rumble of the Sukhoi’s engine and the aircraft’s instruments, before Marceline said simply: “Ready another. We got time.”
Vigil sighed as he took a look at the fireball. “They made time, give me a sec.”

Second Lieutenants James “Bones” Goreman & Neisha “Dirty” Deeds
November 24, 2015 // Vitoze, Emmeria

Vigil: <<Bones, Frog, forget about going with us, Calf wants you to intercept and destroy from another angle. Go with it.>>

Bones: <<Copy 2, adjusting for intercept.>>

James pushed the throttle hard again, angling away from the main group and on a course to meet the Blackjack further on. Flat out and with nothing else to do, the pair of mercenaries had a frontrow seat to the aerial brawl following the arrival of several shining gold F-16’s. Settling in and praying the interceptors didn’t notice Hector, they watched as the F-16’s scored a kill, giving a cheer when they saw their comrades' ejection seat come rocketing out of her old MiG.

Listening closely to the comms for updates, the two sat pressed into their seats as the Tornado’s speed crept higher and higher, and James was only snapped out of it when he heard Neisha call out from the back.

“Oh no, two broke off, they’re engaging One and Two.” They watched the Tiger and Mirage fight for every inch they could hold on to, and to their credit the F-16’s had to mount a stiff response.

“Holy…” Neisha mumbled, watching the duels. “Merlin and Rattler and going hard on those two bricks. Think they’ll win?”

“I hope so.” James replied grimly. He liked Merlin, the old timer reminded him a lot of his dad, and even though he got the feeling Rattler wasn’t too fond of him, James liked her well enough and quietly hoped they both were going to make it.

“Heads up Neesh.” He called back. “We’re going to be merging in a second and I need a lock ASAP.” His WSO grumbled about wanting to watch the dogfights, but the indicators on his weapons console told him she had her attention on the task at hand. By the time they had closed in with the Blackjack, Mooncalf and Vigil had fired, missed, been engaged by one of the last F-16’s James could see, and then gotten free again when another Assassin took their pursuer out of the fight. It was the chance they were waiting for.

“Neesh?”

“Almost there, give it a second.” One second became several, and the Blackjack began to creep away from them again.

“Neesh, any time now!”

“Just give Hector a-” she cut herself off. “Trackingarmedfire!”

Her rapidfire confirmation was all James needed.

Bones: <<Assassin 4, Fox-Two.>>

He watched his last Sidewinder carve a path towards the Blackjack, drumming his fingers on the throttle nervously as he waited for the missile to fly to almost it’s max range to reach its target.

“Come on.” James growled, finally throttling down in response to the angry grumbling of the engines behind him. “Hit the bastard.”

A moment later they were rewarded with a brilliant display as the AIM-9 detonated next to the tail, lighting off whatever fuel was left in it’s aft tanks.

Bones: <<Assassin 4, splash one Tupolev!>>

James couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice, they had certainly just made a nice bit of money for themselves. Neisha seemed to agree, letting loose a string of inspired expletives at the Blackjack’s ejecting crew. Pulling the throttle back further, James brought the old Tornado back to cruising speed, giving his center console a pat.

“Damn fine work, Hector.”

KILL LOG
Merlin: x1 F-16 (ACE)

Rattler: x1 F-16 (ACE)

Bones/Dirty: x1 Tu-160 (TGT)

Ace Combat: Ashes of War (IC/Closed)

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